Fire Emblem: Lost Souls
by Guardian55
Summary: In the plains of Sacae, a lost soul, the shadow of a young man, wanders alone. He wishes to be isolate from Elibe, from the wickedness that constantly pursues him. However, fate has a different plan for him. As he discreetly wanders towards Bulgar, upsets the feral bandit Batta the Beast, and meets the girl of the plains Lyndis, his journey unfolds... as does his troubled past.
1. Prologue

Prologue...

"_The worst enemy any person can ever have is a former best friend." - Unknown_

The story about to be conveyed unto you is one that has been passed from one generation unto the next since its happening here in "Elibe" many, many years ago. The old have kept it close to their hearts since and, through them, the young have been inspired by its teachings. There are many variations of the fable in these current days yet all list the same specific things. Especially of one particular individual who - like any innocent chosen by destiny - unknowingly bore the future of all in existence upon his shoulders. Thankfully, he turned out to be a pure soul who came to eventually believe in himself along with the world. That it, as well as everything else, deserved continuance over disaster when the end times drew near. This champion didn't act alone, though, no. He couldn't have begun being a champion without the aid of the tender spirit of fair maiden. She found him when his need was greatest, raised him up, and inspired him to begin anew. With her, he started the turning of the cogs of fate, aided other lords and their countries, to end the plans of a steadily growing evil in the shadows of our realm.

Yet, this hero - this savior's story - is for later. Now is the chance to explain another tale in its place, instead, if it can be permitted. This story is rather crucial and, although the tale afterwards displays many fantastic morals that have kept us on the right path to this day, no other tale has nor ever can come close to this one's glory. To its teachings. This particular spectacle that we speak of happened long before he who carried the magnificent "Sword of Seals", "Roy", and his father that wielded the "Blazing Sword", "Eliwood" plus friends. It included two equal races that shared a prosperous peace shattered by one side's ill doing and this was only settled by the actions of eight mighty heroes.

We speak of that bloody time which is titled the "Scouring" in our records. It was where dragon and human fought each other furiously 980 years ago over a crisis caused by us, mankind. Our own peoples had slaughtered several wyrms and, in retaliation, their kin launched a justified assault on those responsible. The fight ignited the entire world, our glorious homeland of Elibe, into a battle that shook its very foundations. The mountains crumbled, the oceans raged, the skies darkened as well as howled, and the landscape itself cracked open like a wide maw to devour everything. Before this destruction, our two civilizations had benefited from a great bond of friendship that produced much success. Together, during the days of the Scouring, we brought the realm to its knees with so much blood, hatred, and chaos.

Humans were to blame for the destruction brought into the formerly peaceful world of Elibe. Since the start to our existence, we have always been greedy creatures that cannot say no but desire more, more, more without consideration about the consequences our actions will bring. Some believe it should have been our end - not the dragons' - as the result of the war. However, in the end, it did not turn out to be that way but opposite. Thanks to the sacrifices plus determination of eight champions.

From the war rose the legendary leaders of mankind, our respected saviors titled the "Eight Generals", - _"Hartmut", "St. Elimine", "Hanon", "Barigan", "Durban", "Athos", and "Roland" _- whom led us to victory over the enraged dragons that looked to wipe us out. Through their strengths, our folk found triumph over the enraged race we once called "friend" and drove them from the mainland into parts unknown. Parts supposedly unreachable. Defeated, despised, the dragons vanished from the world. They left Elibe behind. They left it to us and, naturally, we recovered as did the land alongside us. From the champions' along with our combined efforts came _"Bern", "Etruria", "Sacae", "Ilia", "Lycia" _along with peace plus tranquility. Without the drakes, we alone grew, prospered, as the dominant people. The only people. As for those we hurt, we forced away, nothing could be said for them. They were gone with several good reasons not to ever come back.

A near millennia passed for us overall. Our ancestors passed away to clear the path for our own comings as well as goings that only made the golden age we experienced all the greater it felt like. There was no real misery throughout Elibe. None that could be seen. Yet, after 980 years of happiness... how much longer could that kind of thing last? That was just it. Nothing ever lasts forever without a struggle, a debate, a catch. Unknown to our blissful world, shadows were growing in parts suspected as untouchable. In places thought long forgotten.

And, so, that is where this portion detailing the historical Scouring comes to an end and gives way to that chronicle almost equal in splendor called the "Blazing Sword" at which, those involved, saved this world before that event named the "Sword of Seals"...

Please, listen closely to what is about to be said. The journey began in the most open, wild place one could imagine. Where one could feel almost absolute freedom. It started in the eastern plains and hills of "Sacae" where the nomad horseman hero, "Hanon", settled after the victory against dragon kind...


	2. Chapter One: The Unexpected

Chapter One: "The Unexpected"

"_There is always hope for every soul out there." - Anonymous_

* * *

The time for Elibe, the continent spared from the dragons' wraths nearly a thousand years ago, was quite late into the evening. It was actually late enough for the sun to be drooping into the western horizon, for the thousands upon thousands of Elibian citizens in their various nations to begin feeling drowsy, as well as for a collection of stars to ignite in the purpling sky. There the few orbs of twinkling lunar luminosity acted as something as reminders of what was coming. In a matter of an hour or two, nighttime would replace the daytime until dawn's arrival. The moon plus thousands of stars would take the place of the father light, the sun, and, naturally, everything throughout the world would once again be still along with quiet while they fell into slumber. This cycle of sleep was an ancient practice every Elibian participated in. Voluntarily as well as not voluntarily, without thinking, it descended upon them at night and with good reason. Day presented challenges for the peoples. What kinds of trials awaited them was always a mystery. Would they be beneficial or hurtful? Would they be positive? Negative? No one had answers to these questions but there was some reassurance for them, mind. Night prepped those who would face these conflicts, these tests. It gave them the rejuvenation, the refreshment, the second wind that they would need to come out on top of whatever came their way the next day. For example: at dawn, some folk would go to school, others would farm their land, others would be caught in the havoc mess known as the market business. Regardless, with proper rest, every one of these activities could be faced properly. However, without the required sleep, well... a soul would find him or herself incapable of much than usual.

So, this was the natural rule in Elibe that was followed by everyone as well as everything. Whether a personage was in the mountains, the sea, the forest, or wherever, it still applied. No one could ever escape it. _Day _was for gaining. _Night _was for regrouping.

Indeed, it was a wise creed to follow. Day meant gain. Night mean regroup. Only if one followed this strict teaching and gave half his or her time to day and then to night would he or she find true success in the future. A person needed to stay healthy, rested, plus aware to really become strong enough to find victory over any challenge, over any conflict. At the moment, this was everything that ran through the head of a wise young man as he traversed on foot in silence along through the wide spread of plains known throughout the continent as Hanon's vast eastern province of "Sacae". His surroundings plus himself had gained a golden radiance an hour ago as the sun began descending closer towards the west. Soon, the father light would be utterly gone for the next twelve hours. Much like a single lighthouse on the coast with its light against the dark, the boy making his way was the only real difference against the constant scenery of tall, green/ yellow, grassy, hilly land that belonged to the nomadic children of Hanon. Was he a drifter himself? No... not quite. What he looked like couldn't be rightly said at first sight but he wasn't a wanderer. Yet, considering he was completely alone, what he looked like didn't really matter, did it? Anyway, the certain soul in question was hidden away under a heavy looking traveling cloak shaded black with the hood over his head to fend off the occasional rough wind that billowed past him. Outlining his cloak were lines of white, ghostly white, that ominously crisscrossed, circled, or shaped random designs. Considering it was in the middle of the "Sun Season", the hottest time of the Elibian year, a person would find this dense garb irritably uncomfortable. However, the young traveler whom wore it felt no annoyances.

"_Augnus". _Just Augnus. That was the name of the youth that strode along through Sacae's never ending wilderness in peaceful harmony. His title, although he didn't consider himself either, supposedly meant "Great" or "Magnificent". It meant such things from where he came from, anyway. Where he spec9ifically came from wasn't important, though. The past didn't really matter when the future meant so much more now, did it? As for what was to come in the near future, dusk was fast approaching. With it would come the dark and this was a trouble that the young man had to confront eventually as well as without choice. The sun wasn't going to stay suspended in the afternoon air for him alone. For one, he didn't deserve such favoritism from the father light. Two, he wasn't anymore special than any other Elibian today. Well, maybe he was but... in the worst sense. Ugh, the boy was thinking of his past again. How did that keep coming back to him? Did he not come to Sacae's emptiness to leave that stuff behind? To isolate himself form it? Pushing the miserable thoughts of his earlier days aside, Augnus reached up to his hood and removed it to see better. Night was coming. Therefore, he needed to locate a proper camp site to endure it. So, when Augnus did pull back his cap to see better, persons, if present, would have found themselves rather surprised to see how handsome he was. With that somewhat depressing cloak hood of his on, no one would have expected to view the boy as a youth, clearly twenty or close, with a firm face headed by coal colored hair cut short along with peculiar eyes that glinted the brightest violet in the sun's fading rays. Beneath his outfit, the young man also sported a purple tunic and leggings, leather brown boots, gloves on his hands, plus a white vest over his chest. Beneath that clothing was his actual conditioned, healthy, muscular body which was due to his years of travel, work as well as hardships since coming to this certain _world _filled with arrogance.

This world... How long had it been since _"that" _had happened and he had been dragged into this place? Well, enough of that thinking. The past was the past. It just needed to go away, curse it!

Sighing forcefully to himself, Augnus resumed trying to complete the objective on his mind while ignoring the remnants of his past trying to haunt him. His earlier days were, shall one say, not that appreciated. He wanted to get away from it not only for his own safety but for those other people that made the land of Elibe. However, a shadow kept following him. He kept going back to when he had... No, he could leave it behind. His past might have found him in the frozen realm of "Ilia", it might have tracked him to divided "Lycia" next, but it wouldn't find him here. It wouldn't ambush him like it had done the times beforehand. No, not this time. In determined spirits, Augnus searched for a good spot to set up camp for the time the stars along with moon would rule the sky. The nearing dusk would bring around nighttime. He needed a location that he knew would provide him sleep in certain comfort plus safety. He was very aware that it wasn't only shadows of his earlier days that would be looking for him in the dark. There were other predators in this world. Wild animals and bandits in particular had a knack for becoming more active when the sun vanished. Too many times had Augnus wandered across a tipped caravan on the road in the shadows, ripped to shreds by who knew what. As for what was inside the wagon... there were bodies. Enough said. Thus, to live through another night and not end up as one of the unfortunate in the many ambushed caravans he'd viewed, the boy had become very thoughtful of what was required in a nighttime camp. Plus, at some point, he'd given up entirely on walking along roads. They were too filled with surprises. Thus, obviously, if Augnus wanted to make a fire to warm himself, the site needed to be sheltered from sight which would be, uh, an issue. The plains didn't really provide much cover for that. Really, now that the traveler thought it over, Sacae itself didn't have any good place to make a suitable camp! Ugh, life just wasn't that easy, was it? The environment was just wilderness. The tall grass was the only real cover he could use to his advantage. If only there was some shrubbery or trees...

Yet, if wilderness was all the Sacae was, then how could that be unfortunate for the young man currently contemplating over things? He looked around again and saw only landscape. There was not another soul, no settlement, nothing but grass, as far as his eyes could see and, mind, his eyesight was as acute as a hawk's. Nothing got by him easily. Emptiness. That was how Hanon's realm was, right? That was what Augnus came here for, did he not? Then what was he afraid of predators for? This wasn't like being on a regularly used trade route or in the forest rumored to be a playground for cutthroats. This was vast, empty land with absolutely nothing but himself in it. With this realization, Augnus let out a little laugh at his own paranoia. Of course, he wasn't going to become overconfident and blunder into a stupid trap. He simply needed to remain alert for anything unusual from here on out. He was also prepped for any trouble that might come. He hadn't outrun his past in this world forever by sprinting, after all. Fighting back to getting out of being cornered had been required at times. At thinking of this, the boy reminded himself that, in the supply satchel he had slung around his right shoulder underneath his cloak, his tomes were handy. Yes, his unusual appearance was due to his profession. He was a "mage". No, not a mage but a "shaman" of sorts who specialized in wielding the oldest arcane arts considered "evil" or so called by those that inhabited this world. The magic Augnus conjured up made the common people tremble. The feared the darkness, wished for it to be gone, but what did they know? In the end, they were a bunch of scared weakling goats that didn't truly understand the shaman. No one in this particular dimension, this alien place, would ever truly understand him. That was no big loss on his part, though. He didn't want them too. Much harm had come from them trying and that was why he now wandered alone in Sacae.

_Enough of the earlier days! Enough of it! UGH!_

Snarling to himself in frustration, Augnus decided to move on into the wilderness rather than stand around making himself upset over stupid things. His surroundings still presented him no good place to start settling down. He couldn't settle at the top of a hill to keep a lookout. With a campfire, that would practically be a beacon for outlaws to follow to him. He couldn't rest at the bottom of a hill either. Doing that would shelter him partially from onlookers but he'd have a hard time seeing unwelcome visitors surprise him. Where to set up, where to set up? Life just kept right on battering the boy as he tried to come up with a solution to his conundrum. Sure, he was alone now. At night, though, his luck - which was awful - would be that he'd have uninvited guests visit him and they wouldn't be the most friendly guests, mind. They'd be more the types to stick you with a sword or rend you to pieces with claws before even letting you let out a squeak. Augnus knew by personal experience that he was correct in that regard. He'd been in too many close calls, too many scuffles. That one time in the lycian realm of "Dane" in the woods with the bandit gang that called themselves the "Barrow Whites" was such an event. They had been an unruly pack of assassins, rogues, thieves, plus more and numbered a dozen. Augnus had only escaped their assaults by climbing a tree. There, amidst the leaves, he hid for the night. Of course, being a shaman, he could have easily destroyed the lot of them but... killing wasn't a hobby of his. He'd lost the will to do that a long time ago. Really, he'd done too much life taking during his earlier days of lifetime.

What else did the traveler carry in his satchel? Augnus knew that he didn't only carry a number of tomes with him for self defense against threats. Sure, the "Luna", "Flux", along with "Nosferatu" books did their jobs of calling forth the dreaded powers of darkness but they wouldn't be any good to him in combat if he was too weak to cast them due to hunger or thirst, would they? Oh, not to worry. He didn't have to eat his tomes this time nor was anywhere close to doing so like back when he'd gotten a bit lost in the western deserts. When had that been? A year ago? It was a miraculous feat that he had found his way back to civilization, rather than died in the heat. Man, had that been an adventure! Funnily, Augnus hadn't gone anywhere close to there since. He knew where to keep from now. Focusing back onto the present, the boy slowed his pace to rummage through his bag for what he knew was already there. He just wanted to reconfirm that he had a good portion of bread/ salted meat rations along with a half filled flask of water to fall back on when done walking for today. Make no mistake, he was looking forward to a break after all the walking. Not only did his feet throb but he was _famished_. At registering this info, Augnus grimaced when his gut growled. No, he couldn't eat anything yet. He needed to resist the urge and remain to his routine. If he didn't, he would eat right through his supplies before reaching the northwestern city known as the commercial center of Sacae, "Bulgar". Hopefully, he was heading in the right direction towards there. Oddly, the plains around him were very much like the desert sands. One could get lost with ease. When in Bulgar, Augnus would most assuredly find a soft bed, food, maybe even work for some coin. If it was discreet enough, the young man could hunt down some target bandits, help a shop with items, or even perform his talents for the entertainment of the crowds. Better yet, if Bulgar sported an arena then Augnus would be more than happy to enter a match or two. Even as a magic user, he was capable in there. However, he couldn't stick around in the town long or his past would catch up with him and that, seriously, was a thing that needed to be avoided at all costs.

There was no good place for a CAMP! Growing impatient with the world at not giving him some relief for a camp site as well as with himself for bringing up his older days despite his efforts not to, Augnus directed an ominous spell towards a nearby patch of grass. With his right hand held out before him, palm open, he began the incantation that would give him the wanted results. He needed to vent, to destroy something. Under his breath, the shaman called forth the hatred growing in himself. The forces of anger, of hate along with impatience, drained from him to blast forward as a murky, black substance that swallowed the grass he aimed at. There, the glob of blackness seemed to feed on the landscape until, with a good "boom", it exploded! Dirt, plant life, rock, it scattered upwards before showering back down! Seeking further release from his emotions, Augnus cast more of these spells to make the land spray away in torrents! The explosions of his spells not only echoed out deeply into the distance but ripped bigger and bigger patches into the ground! At long last, after ten minutes, the shaman relented. Gaining control over his feelings, he purposefully glanced at his literally smoking casting hand. The hand he observed was now outlined, like his cape, in eerie markings of white. Honestly, it was as if an individual had just taken a branding iron and branded Augnus's hand for the power he had just shown off. Underneath his outfit, the boy also knew his entire frame resembled that which showed on his hand. More random designs glowed white all over his frame. They shined on his chest, his shoulders, his legs, even privates. He was almost completely tattooed with these illuminated artworks. Only his face remained clear with his neck half in half. This exotic condition of Augnus's... it was a fragile burden of his. A burden, a horrible secret, that needed to remain here, alone, in Sacae. He hadn't used Flux, Luna, or Nosferatu but his own magic through it. Yes, he was capable of unleashing magic not in the tomes for his own personal reasons. There were those that were aware of his secret, though, that wanted it, that pursued him for it, but, ha, they had no luck thus far in getting it. They would have an even harder time of stealing it here where he could see them coming miles away. Nonetheless, he couldn't get overconfident. He had to be aware, in control, wise.

Balling his outlined right hand while lowering it, Augnus sought to control himself as well as the powers trying to well up inside him. He forced away the frustration, the misery, trying to make him unleash more flurries of Flux spells in a berserk state. Yet, thankfully, it didn't come to that. Following the teachings he had received from the hardened monks of Ilia, in a matter of moments with much exhaling as well as balling/ un-balling of his fists, the conflicted boy regained his senses. Looking over the craters he'd made, he couldn't help but feel a bit down. In this world, he was really that weak? Back home, he created much more devastation than this. Back home, he'd made holes with his power that went on for miles underground, not mere feet. Yet, that was the truth of the matter. This was him now. Maybe, perhaps, he was better off this way? Power had corrupted him, made him kill. Now, he looked to control it and make himself into a better person. He wanted redemption from what he had done. Here, in Sacae, he would be able to practice controlling his abilities better than anywhere else. Yes, this was the best choice. He couldn't go out of control like this in a civilized center. He needed space, quiet, where, if he made a mistake like now, it wouldn't be so bad. Here, he could learn to be better than this. Yes. Yes, he could! With this inspiration racing through his veins, Augnus looked to resume his travels northwest when something caught his sharp attention. He instantly froze in his tracks to investigate. There was something to the west... A smell drifted upon the air from there. Things became clearer to the young man when he looked in that general direction in curiosity.

Just within his eyesight, Augnus noticed a pillar of gray rising into the golden afternoon air. With the breeze that passed him going eastward, he noticed it carried a slight hint or taste that both invigorated as well as repulsed the his senses. He snorted his nose, rubbing it at coming to the certain conclusion that it wasn't only smoke he smelled in the wind but it was what rose from the west just beyond. Something... was something on fire then? Looking over the situation better, not jumping to conclusions, the traveler observed the smoke plume rise high into the sky. Huh, how had he missed that earlier? Anyway, he knew first off, judging by the larger than normal size of the dark cloud, that it wasn't merely a camp fire started by a local. It had to be a bigger source than that. What could be sending up such a dense billow of smoke yanked at Augnus's heart strings as well as his curiosity. He found himself wanting to find out but another part of him, the caution he'd inherited during his travels, stated he should remain back. At being bested by his longing to go explore, his cautious side at least put in that he should do so subtle like. How someone dressed in a black cloak in a mostly green environment could be discreet wouldn't be easy but, really, Augnus knew what was required to not find himself in trouble. Be careful, stay low, don't run in, those sorts of things. Keeping track of what direction was which, the shaman started to his left to close the distance between himself and his reason for going off course in the first place. He would merely need to turn right to continue north towards Bulgar once done inspecting things.

What could the smoke be coming from? A question Augnus didn't have the answer too at the moment because the reason could've been numerous things. It could be a nomad settlement at which the young man would probably look to re-supply with the people. As for Hanon's people, they were rumored to be untamed beasts against the supposedly "civilized" folk. However, the civilized came in many forms and the drifters of Sacae were an acceptation. The shaman knew so after having spent a number of weeks among them in their homeland. The native folk of the plains treated him as an equal, taught him a bit, even gave him shelter without pay. They were free, kind, plus wise. Those who were really the monsters were those that spoke harshly of that which they didn't truly understand. The nomads of Sacae deserved much praise, not racism. At this thought, Augnus snorted. My, how the allegedly righteous peoples of the eight heroes had become stupid since the battle between dragon kin and mankind. They truly didn't appreciate the gifts they were given, did they? They bickered over nothing when they should've been happy to be alive, free, as well as together. Bah, enough of that. The smoke in the distance could have been a nomad momentary camp. However, it could _not _be. Augnus's reason for being cautious was that he didn't want to run into trouble with the wrong types. He could very well be closing in on a bandit group making their own camp for the coming night. It wouldn't be the first time his curiosity led him into such an awkward, ironic position. The boy hoped for the first possibility most, not at all for the second, as he drew closer and the smell of smoke began to fill his nostrils. The dryness of the taste stuck to his mouth as well. When nearly at the scene, he realized he was coming to the crest of a hill. That was a plus. Taking advantage of this, Augnus lowered himself down onto all fours to somewhat hide amongst the plant life. In that position, he inched forward as best he could. As he went, his ears caught the sound of smoldering. Things weren't just on fire, they'd been ignited. Finally, he found out the cause of the smoke.

Well, all that the shaman could say when looking down through the grass towards the source of his curiosity was that both possibilities he thought of beforehand had a part in the scene he observed. Down the hill from Augnus's position, a camp, the remnants of one that was, was scattered about messily. An attack had clearly happened. Who were the victims and who were the assaulters was something the boy thought over. It was a sizeable settlement that had been wrecked. It probably served as home for about a dozen or so Sacae nomads. Now, though, the numerous gers along with tents that once served as homes for Hanon's descendants were torn up, shredded, mangled, as well as on fire. Who had done this damage to the innocent? Who else but bandits? Duh. With that solved, the young man then realized that it was the blazing tents that created the growing cloud of smoke overhead. In a growing sense of dread, he next registered that if the fires were still dancing, the event couldn't have happened long ago! If it couldn't have happened long ago, then those responsible for the attack couldn't be far! By this world, they could still be around! Yet, as he thought through this possibility better, Augnus deemed it unlikely. An hour at most might have passed since the nomads were attacked. By then, the outlaws would have moved on. As for their victims, the boy couldn't see any deceased bodies littering the fiery destruction. There were no casualties? That was rare. Perhaps everyone had escaped the bandits safely? Again, that seemed unlikely. If there were no bodies... did the criminals take some of the innocent as hostages? At this possibility, sympathy sparked in the shaman's heart. He had a good reason for feeling such. The innocent in chains would most likely be brought along by the bandits to be sold off as slaves to nobles. Sacae "savages", especially the women, were rare trophies for the foreign higher ups to flaunt to their fellows. Ugh.

At this, Augnus was jumping to conclusions without any evidence. _Proof_; that was what he needed in order to even confirm there had been an attack on the innocent. Maybe there had been an accident here and the wanderer inhabitants had moved on? A ridiculous theory, considering how everything looked so abruptly thrown askew, but, until proven wrong, it was a possibility regardless. Moving on, he needed to investigate further into this situation. So, instead of just dropping in to see what was going on, the young man now looked to step into the scene of the crime and involve himself even further. He could ignore this. It wasn't his issue. Yet, at thinking of people being taken as slaves... Sure, in the past, he wouldn't have cared at all about slavery but now wasn't the case. If people had been taken as slaves, they needed help. If Augnus wanted redemption, then he needed to help them. Not turn away. Keeping close to his heart his careful ways, the shaman searched for any sign of suspicion downhill from him. He didn't move from his spot for five minutes until sure he was alone and not in the presence of others trying to stay hidden. When sure things were safe, he appeared from the brush. There, he stayed immobile while searching for any changes to his environment at his arrival. Nothing happened. Thus, covering his mouth to safeguard his lungs from the hindering smoke, Augnus swept forward onto the scattered camp remains.

At once, when in the middle of the site, the boy grabbed a tent support to use as a prodder as well as hook to pull the materials on fire away from the dry grasses. This action would prevent a possible wildfire from starting. Really, he was surprised one hadn't started before his arrival but, ignoring that, he moved on to dowse the flames. He swept off his cloak and, with several harsh beatings, the fires on the tent he dragged away from the grass flickered out. With that done, he repeated the process on other things aflame. Not to worry, Augnus's cloak was a personal magical item. It resisted many things. Whether it was blade or force, it didn't matter. For a long time, the cloak had helped him out of many a dire occasion. So, now, it suitably aided him in suppressing a wildfire. One would use magic to put out the fires which, naturally, the shaman had done in his earlier days. However, he quickly learned that performing such tedious things with his tomes exhausted the item's magical value. One day, he would use flux to do a simple chore. The next day, he wished he hadn't done so with the last of his tome drained and him being attacked by an assassin or two meanwhile. Why were assassins after him? Another matter for another time. After building a sweat, the boy finished his activity of killing the flames. To his relief, Augnus found no bodies but items hidden under the ruined ger or tent shreds. For once, there was no carnage or death in this place. If there was, the explorer would have known by now. Bandits weren't really clean in their work and they didn't bother tidying up afterwards. They left bodies behind to intimidate passing persons or they were just too lazy. Either way was just wrong on many levels. Nevertheless, there were no still bodies present. Not even the littlest trace of blood could be found. What a welcomed change for once.

Smoke still blinded as well as choked Augnus who had to retreat from the scene at moments momentarily to gain fresh air. As he came and went from the wreckage, the more the young traveler gathered about what had transpired there before his arrival. It became clear that an attack had actually happened. Bandits were, more than likely, responsible. How long ago they'd ambushed the innocent was around an hour or maybe two by now. As for what had happened, that was a mystery. The outlaws hadn't drawn blood but their victims hadn't gotten away. The middle of the camp revealed this to the shaman who, with his mouth covered plus eyes tearing up while narrowed, looked at the worn out ground. There were dozens of foot prints made by both people as well as horses. The hoof prints seemed to be positioned before a rank of a dozen or so foot prints scrunched together. This was where Augnus could determine that the nomads might have been gathered up like cattle. Luckily, with no blood visible, they'd been spared the axe. Then, next, the mass of prints led off south through much downed grass towards where the militaristic realm of "Bern" resided which was not a good sign. Bern acted as host for many bandit holds as well as enslavers. Not just them but, ugh, wyvern riders. Augnus's heart sank at this. The likeliness that the Sacae nomads had been chained up seemed clearest. He scanned the prints again. They were various in size. Some looked to belong to adults... others to even children. By dragon's wrath, younglings had been put in chains?

Augnus left the site for the last time to expel the poisonous fumes from his lungs to instead draw in good air. He stood facing south, trying to decide on what he should do next. Confound it, why south? Why not north towards Bulgar? The shaman was only practically a day's length away from the city as well as a fine bed... Yet, he couldn't just turn away from this. He should have just kept moving rather than inspected. He wouldn't have to deal with this, otherwise. Wait, how cold was he? Why was he thinking of this negatively? Why would he even dare turn away from those in need? That was in the past, not the present. So, it was decided, he would pursue the bandits as well as those enslaved. Going alone to do such a feat seemed reckless but Augnus had his reasons for being confident. Oh, yes, he'd faced worse conditions than this on other missions. Regardless, though, this certain journey would have to wait. Why? Dusk was nearly upon the world. Unless he was a bat, Augnus wouldn't have any luck trying to track the marauders in the dark of the night. He'd just lose his way as well as his chance to do a good deed. If he tried to travel at night, considering his luck, he would trip on something and break his ankle. That wasn't a joke, mind. It had happened to him before.

The sky was shifting from blue to purple. The air was becoming cooler. The once golden world around the shaman was darkening and he decided to set up camp in the remains of the nomadic first he'd happened upon. He now kind of wished he'd started a fire with the blaze rather than put it out recently but, in a second, he would have it going again. Plus, maybe he could salvage some leftover supplies from the wreckage. Was it wise to sleep in a crime scene? Wouldn't the cutthroats be back? Augnus had enough evidence to be sure he was safe in what he planned to do and that he wouldn't be ambushed in the night. Firstly, he was much too aware of his surroundings for allowing dull bandits to get the better of him. Secondly, the entire group of tracks moved south. _All _prints moved towards Bern. This was something the traveler confirmed a second time when looking over the prints again for reassurance. Yes, the group with its slaves headed south. That was certain to the shaman as he looked over the tracks plus trampled grass behind him. So, at the moment, he would relax as well as plan for tomorrow. Bulgar would just have to wait until he either chased down the bandits which was likely, got himself killed by them which was unlikely, or lost them which was also unlikely. He wasn't a hero but he wasn't a deserter. He'd go as far as to the Bern mountain ranges. If he got that far and made no progress, well, he would have to turn back. Those mountains were the homes of every kind of criminal these days but, hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

With that decided, Augnus looked to begin setting his momentary camp up. He immediately froze, however, when something caught his attention in the grass. Right straight ahead of him was a wicked looking man, garbed from head to foot in a rough looking outfit, aiming a cocked arrow in its bow at him! At once, the shaman glanced to his right when another similarly dressed rogue appeared carrying dual knives! This was an impossibility! How in the hell had these two snuck up on him? They had to be specters to get the better of him with how cautious he was! Yet, they were not ghosts and Augnus knew that fact full well. Despite his caution, despite his careful nature, he'd fumbled somewhere. How was an utter mystery to him. He wasn't the kind to make a mistake. He hadn't survived for so long against terrible odds by being clumsy. Regardless, the boy was in a situation and now his mind raced as his opponents closed in on him. He needed to remain calm. Panic only made anyone do something stupid. So, in grim silence, the young man thought over ways to escape as his adversaries when the bowman commanded in a gruff voice from under his cloth wrap mask, "Alright, you! You're now property of Batta the Beast! Get down on the ground if you want that heart of yours to keep right on beating or my pal, Bale, will encourage you!"

"Bale", the outlaw with the knives, gave a sinister chuckle at the statement. He eagerly twirled his weapons of choice as Augnus closely watched him. The shaman couldn't reach his books for a spell. He most certainly couldn't call out on his own personal arcane abilities here or that would destroy everything, including the tracks. The boy couldn't do anything at the moment but look for an opening to take and try to flee. Thinking it wise not to have an arrow shot at him or daggers plunged into his heart meanwhile, the cornered traveler decided to obey. If he could get his attackers overconfident, Augnus could maybe try something. It would be risky but, hey, that was life, wasn't it? Seeing his victim get down onto his stomach, Bale let out another eager chuckle. He didn't sound all there and it didn't feel comfortable to have him come near when his companion snapped, "Bale, you know what to do! Tie him up like the rest of the pigs for crossing into the territory of Batta the Beast! He'll be a fine addition to add to those nomadic dolts we took from here earlier!" What in the world? Augnus glanced at the tracks heading south and went over what he had just heard. That couldn't be right... these guys, this "Batta the Beast", had done this to the camp? Then how did they come from nowhere if they had departed towards Bern an hour or so ago? What were these guys doing here?

Simple, the bandits _hadn't _left or moved on. They'd been waiting for another dolt, another curious sucker, to wander into the sight to investigate and, hey, guess who that was? Augnus felt like beating his head against the ground. Why hadn't he just moved on towards Bulgar? Why? Yet, as Bale neared, a sudden realization hit the distressed shaman. He even grinned to himself. The archer, he was out of sight in the grass! That meant if Augnus couldn't see him, the bowman couldn't see him! Bale was the only real threat at the moment and, as soon as the assassin like rogue was in range, the young man acted. He threw a punch out from his ground position that tripped up the goofy outlaw! Bale let out a yelp as he went down and his companion let out a roar of anger! My, my, these guys were odd but, ha, when were bandits not? Taking advantage of his presented chance, Augnus seized his Flux tome from his bag as Bale looked to get back up! Mind, Augnus was a quiet man. Yet, with the book in hand, the shaman roared out his first audible words of the entire day which was a tremendous exclamation of, "FLUX!" This wasn't the complete spell but enough. A shockwave burst from Augnus's right hand that disarmed Bale as well as knocked him back down to the ground! With that task accomplished, the boy lunged upon the dazed bandit just as the other criminal drew near enough to fire an arrow. Giving out a savage yell, Bale's fellow let loose a shaft at the target! In reply, Augnus lifted the confused Bale as a shield who received the arrow instead!

The shaft sank right through Bale's left side with a sickening "thunk" and a silence followed the sound. Finally, Bale found his voice and squealed out like a child, confirming the fact he wasn't really all there in the head, "Eeeeeyagh!" He shuddered violently when seeing the arrow in his gut, then looked to the stunned shooter to yell out almost incoherently, "Markten?! Oh no, I don't want to die! H-how c-could y-you s-shoot m-me-" Augnus didn't wait for his shield to finish with his blubbering. He threw the demented rogue aside out of his way to charge the archer or "Markten"! One down, one more to go! The bowman tried to arm another arrow but his weapons were blasted out of his hands with another one of Augnus's weak Flux spells! Without weaponry, he tried to punch the shaman who evaded with ease. Augnus, unfortunately for the archer, had perfected his martial arts some time ago and, with a yell, grabbed his marauder foe by the neck. Lifting Markten bodily by the throat, the young man slammed him down for good measure. Thus, with Bale suffering an arrow wound and crippled Markten under his knee, the boy had surprisingly won the feud. Good. Now questions needed answering!

Grabbing hold of the bandit's collar, Augnus faced off with Markten, "Did you do this?" He questioned seriously of the criminal in a rather cool, collected tone while gesturing back to the smoking ruins of the Sacae tribe's settlement. It wasn't only the shaman's looks that were attractive but his voice was too. It gave off a sense of determination, bravery, even wisdom. Yet, Markten wasn't impressed. He merely scoffed at the inquiry as well as, rather than play along, answered with a shrewd insult.

"Damn magic user! Ya think you're so superior but ya ain't gettin nothin out of me! I'm a beast of Batta's! We're the toughest ya'll ever find in these-" Without waiting for the cutthroat to finish with his speech of pride, Augnus seized his captive's mask of rags to roughly rip them off. Markten growled and yelped with pain at the action. When done the young man kind of wished he'd left the mask on his bandit hostage. The aged man had many dull scars, scrapes, plus bruises on his facial features. Really, the mask was an improvement. Not letting himself be disgusted further, Augnus looked to loosen the tongue of his unwilling friend. He delivered a precise, merciless right hook across Markten's crooked face with a "crack" which added another injury to the man's already faded ones. Augnus wasn't ashamed to do this. Truly, the man he punched deserved much worse like the noose or sword but... that wasn't necessary. Not when Augnus looked for redemption, anyway. Was it not more merciful to let people live rather than kill them? Letting the outlaw cough out his pain along with curses for a moment at being hit, Augnus repeated his former question in the same serious tongue.

"I'll ask again, then... Did you do this?" Once more, the shaman waved back towards the Sacae site behind him. He rolled his eyes in exasperation when Markten didn't answer the way he wanted but spat back mockingly.

"Ya call that a punch? A lycian bar maid can hit better than-" Another resounding "crack" rang out into the air when Augnus delivered another right hook to his hostage's face. Man, if this kept up, the man's expression was going to be a living pulp with all the injuries he had. What gang the duo of rogues had come from, the young man didn't care. He wanted answers, not lip! As he readied another punch, Augnus hesitated when Markten exclaimed hurriedly, "Alright, alright, enough! I'll talk for ya, stranger!" At this, the shaman paused to let his prisoner catch his breath as well as expel blood from his disgusting mouth. Then, he laughed out, "Batta the Beast took what was rightfully his! That's what happened here, ya fool!" Well, that was an answer, for sure. Not the right one, mind, but one all the same. This Batta the Beast was a popular fellow it sounded like. Funny enough, every bandit leader seemed to think that way of him or herself when they gained enough support. Yes, Batta had to be a chieftain with the way Markten kept talking about him. What wasn't clear was how two of his cronies were here while it appeared they all should have gone south! The tracks specifically said so, in the least.

"Batta the Beast took what was rightfully his, did he?" Augnus said back, grimly observing his hostage spit blood out onto the ground where he could, "So, he burned down this nomadic settlement, chained up everyone, and marched them off towards Bern, did he? Men, women, children, they were all his, were they?" When Markten struggled under the weight of the knee he was kept under, his interrogator roughly shook him by the collar while he exclaimed, "Did he?!" The archer cackled at the show of emotion. Augnus flinched when blood was spat into his face next and, with a grimace, he loosed another punch across the convict's face. After that, the shaman stood up to wipe off the disgusting substance of someone else's blood from his features. Once done, he delivered a solid kick to his victim's gut. Honestly, the Sacae people had enough to deal with than have to worry about worms like Markten here. They, like Augnus, just couldn't seem to catch a break, though, could they?

"Hell, stranger-" Coughed Markten from the ground as Augnus carefully watched him, "-why not join with our boss? Why not make a name for yourself as one of his beast's? You most certainly could do so after having bested both me and Bale. The pair of us are favorites of his for specializing in catching us some slaves to sell." Ah, that kind of was an answer or was leading into one. So, Markten as well as Bale were slavers were they? Batta was the ringleader? Well, it was something of a relief to hear that slavery was their profession and not just killing for the thrill. If the Sacae were taken from here, then they would be more than likely alive. What Augnus wanted to know was where they were. Playing along, the shaman asked sternly.

"Is that what you did here, then? Caught yourselves some slaves to sell?" Markten cackled again, finding the question humorous. Good heavens above, these were people they were talking about and this twisted wretch of a man wasn't at all disturbed he had helped enslave a good number of souls that had done nothing wrong? Where did these bandits come from? The lowest of the low places in the world? Even Augnus hadn't been... _that _cruel in his past. How arrogant this world was!

"Yepsters." The archer laughed out between his pained coughs, giving his questioner a gleeful smile too, "And, if ya let me as well as Bale go, we'll take ya to the boss that has 'em. Ya can ask him for permission to become a beast if ya want to join his ranks and we'll tell him the story of how ya kicked the butts of both his favorites! That'll earn ya a share of the pay we'll get off the slaves right there, my friend! Ha ha!" This was disgusting. How could a person be so primitive?

"Shut up, you!" Augnus stated harshly and, when his words weren't obeyed, he blasted a patch of grass into oblivion with Flux. This, shockingly, didn't even work. Markten kept right on laughing at his own odd humor. With a swift kick of his right foot, the shaman laid out the deranged bowman in a cloud of dust. That quieted things down. While the archer recovered, his questioner demanded, "You're right about one thing, dolt, I wish to see this Batta the Beast you speak of. Your leader, so called." This reference to Batta seemed to upset Markten. Augnus made it sound like the chieftain was of no big concern which, supposedly, was a terrible mistake.

"No one _wants _to see the boss... You're not from around here, are ya?" When Augnus didn't respond, only glowered back, the archer sneered, "Who are you? A bounty hunter? A hero of sorts? A noble seeking glory?" As he didn't get an answer to any of these things, the bowman chortled, "Well, whatever the case, be careful what you wish for, stranger! Batta the Beast ain't called a beast for no small reason! He's the strongest of the strong, the most powerful of the powerful, as well as the worst kind of soul you want to run into in these parts! He's fierce and he takes what is rightfully his and no one can say otherwise!" At this, Markten actually looked to get up while he finished smartly, "No one can say otherwise! So, if you're not from around here, you might as well listen to sage advice. Let me and my friend go and we'll let you be on your way before you do something else stupid. You don't want anything to do with Batta unless you're interested in joining him. Otherwise, he's right nasty. Especially when it comes to business!" Augnus fiercely slammed his crippled foe back into the grass in response to this sage warning from a man who's face had taken too many beatings. The shaman chuckled.

"Batta is his nastiest when it comes to business, eh? Well, ironically, it just so happens that I have a business deal with him and I could care less how terrible he gets about that subject. As a matter of fact, why wouldn't I have business with him when I know full well that he has a dozen or so souls, young as well as old, unwillingly chained up somewhere? Not only that but he looks to sell them and you were going to throw me right on into the sales... Yeah, you know, you two are the stupid ones. You shot an arrow at me, dolt! You made this personal and I think I need to tell Batta who is and isn't willing to be brought into the business of slavery. I know for a fact that I don't want to get involved with it!" Augnus paused a moment to add to his hostage, "However, I can't say or do that unless I know where this Batta is. So, be a good man and tell me where this supposedly terrible Beast resides. You think he'll like me for beating you up? Well, who knows, we might get along at once then."

It was odd but, instead of answering, Markten literally started laughing his loudest yet. Just as Augnus was about ready to kick him again, the bandit choked out, "And here I was actually going to ask if ya was one of them monks that worshipped St. Elimine or whatnot, looking to redeem the boss's soul! Ha ha! Nah, you have to be a bounty hunter." At a loss, the shaman watched his hostage clutch his hurt sides while he added, "But, why not? You can see the boss. You can ask him your questions and even see what he has in stock. Although, I think you're going to have trouble of getting him to let go of his latest sales items! Ha ha ha!" Oh, would this guy ever shut up? Growing impatient, Augnus suddenly realized things had become too dark to try going anywhere. He would have to get going tomorrow to see this Batta the Beast. At hearing this, Markten questioned purposefully, almost mockingly, "You want to wait? Why, we can go see the boss right now." Feeling this conversation was becoming stupider than required, Augnus answered back dully while looking to knock Markten out cold for good measure.

"No, we're going to enjoy a nice rest before we go anywhere, friend. Shut it."

"Oh? Does that sound agreeable to ya, Bale?"

Bale? That guy was dead with an arrow in his gut... or was he? Immediately, understanding the sudden confident mockery in Markten's tone now was for a reason, Augnus acted too late. The shaman whirled around to find a mortally wounded but alive Bale eagerly lunging towards him from behind with both daggers at the ready in his hands! Cursing under his breath, the young man barely evaded the assault and flipped his injured opponent over onto the ground with a graceful movement! Bale didn't move again. He was done being hurt. This was all the distraction the rogue archer needed, though, to grab up his bow. Even as Augnus refocused onto the rushing Markten to cast his spell, it was for naught! Swinging his bow around, the cutthroat smacked the shaman across the face with a strong blow! Dazed, Augnus stumbled to stay upright. That alone consumed his energy and he couldn't spell out Flux or use his own hidden powers as Markten looked to hit him again!

"Damn-" Was all the young traveler got out when hit by the bow a second time. The next moment, his vision was blanking out. He tasted as well as smelled copper as blood filled his nose plus mouth while he fell backward into the grass. As he hit the ground, the last of the sun's rays flickered out in the distant horizon. Later, the stars blinked overhead, the moon glowed, the winds rolled onwards over Sacae as Markten looked to take advantage of the now knocked out formerly overconfident mage. Well, one way or the other, Augnus was going to see Batta the Beast as well as find the people who had been taken away in chains. One way or another, the days ahead were only going to get more complicated for the young man that only wanted to live in isolation from his past and world.

Why couldn't Augnus have just moved on to Bulgar? How did he fall for such a stupid trick conceived by bandits? Well, the shaman didn't know it - he really didn't know a lot with an unconscious bloodied face - but fate had just taken him by the hand. Where he would go now would be the most unexpected thing he or anyone would ever guess when at the mercy of outlaws. His journey that would lead him to the "Blazing Sword" was just starting and the fearsome Batta the Beast was only the beginning.

_- End of "The Unexpected"..._

- Notes

1. Well, that's that. My tactician character is, as you know now, named "Augnus". I always did like the shaman, dark arts, class whenever playing the Fire Emblem games. They just give off a foreign, unmatchable power against others in combat. A sense of eeriness. Anyway, that's who my character will be portrayed as. Just a heads up.

2. I never really appreciated the prologue. Oh, don't get me wrong, the storyline is awesome but "Batta the Beast" was just soooooo very weak. He never had anything to do with anything but keep getting a sword jammed in his heart at the beginning during the tutorial. Thus, he's going to be more involved with my tactician and Lyndis. In other words, there's going to be something of a prologue before "Prologue: The Girl of the Plains" shows up. Batta is going to be more vital and involved in how Augnus meets Lyn. Just another heads up there.

3. Pairings, pairings, pairings... I have to think through those still. Anything could happen. Just give me some time on those. Thanks! Oh, also, thanks for reading. Hope it was good. :)


	3. Chapter Two: The Beast of Beasts

Chapter Two: "The Beast of Beasts"

"_There is good in every soul, my child. Those in this world as well as beyond it." - Renault, the Wandering Bishop_

* * *

"_Batta the Beast". _Associated with other names such as the King of Monsters, Beast of Beasts, the Feral Terror and so on, this title was the first of them and was a feared entity throughout not only Sacae but even Bern. Of course, as ironically explained earlier, Augnus hadn't a clue as to how significant this character was. The shaman was in Sacae to hide himself, not hear of history. Regardless, Batta's rise, his notorious gang's formation, originated from an old story passed throughout Bern's northeastern mountains. There, in that certain region of isolated tundra along with bare rock covered thickly in fog, a pair of parents unknowingly gave birth to a demon in their little cottage. There, destined to be one of the worst bandits in eastern Elibe, Batta was raised.

As a child of poor parents, Batta quickly learned he had no luxuries. The only shelter against the terrible weather was his rickety household adorned with holes, rotten wood, plus a collapsing roof. His bed for the longest time was on the frozen ground with a rag for a blanket. Being alone in the peaks, he became quite unsociable. Even wild, unstable. If that wasn't bad enough for the boy, with the environment not offering much, he was also deprived of food, water, plus more and, with his father being an abusive drunk, the boy took to hating himself as well as much else. Despite the generous little love his mother could give him in between her husband's explosive wraths, Batta soon confirmed to himself that, one day, he would end his father's life. The man's death wouldn't be a major loss to the world. More of an improvement, if anything. With that grim fact decided, Batta unknowingly started his rigorous training as a convict by hunting down animals with rocks, robbing passing caravans of their water supplies, and tempering his condition against the harsh weather.

Batta became a _survivor_. Not merely that but a cold blooded fighter who was willing to do anything to walk out of any situation victorious. Unfortunately for the boy in training, he didn't get the chance to destroy his dad before the man ended his one source of emotion in the world in a drunken stupor. His mom, by dagger blade, lost her life. Losing himself completely to his savage side, in a berserk fit of rage rarely seen, the son targeted his father in the aftermath with his first demonic frenzy that earned him the infamous recognition of being the "King of Monsters".

What happened at the cottage afterwards, no one could say. It was only certain that Batta became a beast up there after dealing his father his death and, with his mother gone, the child had no more reason to remain. So, he fearlessly ventured out into the world. He took the lives of a variety of predators during his travels. Man or animal, it made no difference to him. He only grew stronger with every victory and, when an adult, he represented the motto, "What didn't kill you made you stronger.", with precise accuracy. Once a doomed child in the mountains, Batta the Beast, as an adult, had an army of followers, influence, dominance, plus legend in Bern and Sacae. He was legendary. That or a phantom.

Currently, Batta, truly, was a feared man of strength, power, along with myth. The rumors that swirled around him were not only well known to the local nomad natives of Sacae that were his usual raid targets but retold in Bern as a way to keep misbehaving children in their places. Regardless, the stories about him _were _stories. It wasn't certain to anyone, even to the King of Monster's crew, just what the chieftain's background was. His favorite underlings didn't even know him enough. Only he knew himself for sure and he reluctantly revealed only shreds of his past to his fellows at times. With those little fragments of information, the tale of Batta being a possible demon had started among his followers. Months later, the tale's manipulation had reached out into the continent. Truthfully, Batta liked the attention. Due to paranoia, it grandly discouraged not only troops but rival brigands too from facing him or his forces. As a result, both parties kept out of Batta the Beast's territory.

Was Batta the Beast immortal? Could he not be killed? Could he actually be a monster? None knew the answers to those riddles. As for those many that had dared to try and find out, well, they never came back to breath a word of it. Knights, nobles, bounty hunters, priests, they disappeared during their quests to slay the supposedly "un-slayable" and even reappeared at times with an axe in their lifeless bodies. At these grim coincidences, fear took the hearts of the outside world which took to remaining out of the eastern plains. In time, travelers avoided Hanon's realm altogether. Even if it was a shortcut, it wasn't worth the risk of crossing Batta.

So, with the passing years, those that lived within Sacae's borders had taken to being careful not to run into the dreaded Beast of Hanon's plains nor his pack. If they could manage not to, at least. For some folk, though, that option was taken away from them without choice. Like the Sacae plain peoples Batta continuously hunted, for example. They couldn't remain relaxed for even a second or... they would be prey to the King of Monsters.

Several hours ago in an area of Sacae's wilderness, before Augnus's arrival onto the scene, Batta the Beast's dreaded group had abruptly rounded up around a dozen or so good nomad specimens from their little temporary settlement. There had been men, women, children, of all ages, that were caught off guard by the sudden ambush as well as clamped in irons as a result. Afterwards, the immortal bandit chieftain with some cunning had begun to lead his prizes away towards Bern when he'd told Markten along with Bale to remain behind in secret nearby the wreckage in case they had missed anyone. Ha, if anything, the smoke would attract other passing idiots into the area. In that case, if anyone _did _wander onto the nomad's pillaged campsite before sunset, the two rogues were to capture whoever showed and bring them to Batta. Preferably unharmed and unspoiled... if possible.

And, so, that was where the horrible Beast gang, apart for two, took their leave towards the southern reaches of Sacae's grasslands. Within the day, they would reach Bern's mountains. The day afterwards, the crooks would be among the rocky peaks. Not only that but they'd be beyond any reach of interference from Hanon's realm. In other words, they wouldn't be bothered by any possible rescue attempts or such.

As for they who were ordered to remain behind at the camp, Markten along with Bale hadn't been given the task of hiding by random chance. Together, since joining ranks with Batta, the archer and assassin had been capturing folk for a good sum of years with little failure plus increasing success. With experience on their side, the two villains positioned themselves after their boss's leave in key locations near the ruined settlement to lie in wait and, from their subtle locations in the grass, the two criminals searched the empty landscape eagerly for hours for any target to take. Staying like that, the sly duo were much like snakes that awaited an unwary as well as unfortunate mouse and, truly, one could only pity the poor soul that would be unlucky enough to attract the predators' attention.

This method of Batta's of having his minions waiting for helpless travelers was just a regular, reliable, repeated tactic for earning some extra coin for the crew and, as usual, it appeared to have worked when who else but Augnus had appeared to investigate the burning tents. Funny enough, his arrival went unnoticed at first because, due to experiencing hours of boredom with no real changes, Markten along with Bale, who were supposed to be fully alert, had, uh, fallen asleep amid the grass and only not messed up the opportunity to capture the traveling shaman by sheer luck. Augnus was truly cautious in his actions but, with fortune against him, he didn't notice the two sleeping, immobile brigands in the surroundings while descending the hill into the pillaged area.

During Augnus's investigation later, the pair of hidden rogues had woken up just before sundown and, to their delight, they found new prey before them for the taking! It was a lone young man. Why he was present was of little concern. Batta had given his orders! If anyone showed up at the campsite, he or she was to become the Beast gang's asset. By force, if need be. Having been successful slavers for a number of years, Markten and Bale thought victory for them was assured. How could a traveler by himself stand any kind of chance against them? However, clearly, it didn't really go over as easily as they both foresaw. The malicious, overconfident pair came to find out the hard way that the boy they'd cornered wasn't a commoner but a magic user. A talented _dark _one, at that.

Yet, in the end, did that detail of Augnus being gifted in the arcane matter? No, not really, now that he was unconscious. He was as good as the property of Batta the Beast! At this, after the battle, Markten gingerly raised his hands in triumph in the fading afternoon's illumination. Ha ha, victory for the Beast gang! If one could call it that with one rogue dead and the other pretty well roughed up, that was.

Death, shockingly, did not come to Augnus that night when he was knocked out cold. No, with all of his magical items as well as fancy clothes, he was deemed too valuable to be stuck like a helpless pig for all the trouble he'd caused for his attackers. That was what bruised Markten, after rummaging through the unconscious boy's belongings, decided as well as to take his hostage to his boss for a second opinion. If anything, the brigand knew that the newly acquired young man was another healthy laborer to sell to the Bern labor fields with the rest of the imprisoned Sacae men. Not only that but the kid was loaded with arcane tomes! Those items often sold for quite the high price alone these days! Markten grinned to himself at this realization. Fantasies began racing through his mind as well.

Would Batta the Beast, perhaps, be so pleased with this pay dirt capture that maybe he would promote the filthy archer to be his right hand? Ooh, how delightful! How grand!

Without further ado, while experiencing dumb excitement run through him, Markten scuttled over to where Bale laid. Markten's victory over the shaman wasn't _that _great. Truth be told, his win was just lucky. Moving on, not really recalling the instant he'd shot the arrow into the man, the inspired bowman kicked his companion roughly to get him up out of the grass. Already dead, Bale didn't move nor make a sound. Impatient, Markten tried to rouse Bale again but recalled the deadly arrow when seeing it protruding from his helper's side. Nervously, the remaining bandit glanced this way as well as that at the thought he might have just taken an accomplice's life. Then, he uncaringly shrugged at not receiving any punishment for his murder. Simply, what no one had saw couldn't hurt them. That applied to this certain moment, didn't it?

Markten hadn't meant to kill his ally, duh. It was that kid, that rotten shaman, who was responsible! Batta, if present, would surely say so! Bale, if alive, would've understood that too, right? Well, um, too bad both the assassin along with chieftain weren't available to provide an answer to that. Either way, without an accomplice now, more credit for the accomplishment here went to Markten for the capture of the detainee, right? After all, there was no honor among thieves, heh.

With that reassuring thought, sticking his fingers into his mouth, the remaining marauder let loose a shrill purposeful whistle to the south. There was a silence that followed this. When nothing happened like expected, Markten repeated the whistling once, twice, then three more times with growing impatience. It took several tense seconds afterwards for anything he expected to happen but a shape gradually appeared in the dimming horizon. As the archer watched, the shape gained speed as it raced towards him.

The coming silhouette in the distance turned out to be a sturdy horse, black as raven feathers, who's pelt gave off a sheen in the dying sunlight with a thick native saddle of leather plus furs on its back. Judging by the foreign saddle itself, this beauteous creature most certainly wasn't bandit material. It definitely hadn't been the property of Markten - the filthy, dishonorable rat - forever. No, it had actually belonged to one the nomads taken prisoner recently earlier in the day and Markten fancied it in the aftermath. Who wouldn't fancy such a proud beast? Also, who could keep the criminal from taking it, otherwise? No one, obviously.

The steed slowed when approaching its arrogant, new master who had whistled. Then, it stopped altogether to give Markten an empty stare who gestured for his prize to come closer. The horse only nickered in reply. Then, it stepped away when its owner, in impatience, snarled for it to obey him and approach! Confound it, he'd dealt with enough crap today! The villain bowman had looted nomads, been punched in the face, lost Bale, and now a horse was going to mock him? No way! It needed to come! NOW! Funnily, the command was ignored. The horse only sneezed in response to being snarled at.

Blast it, what had the horse been called by its nomadic rider during the earlier struggle? Something like "Loki"? Yeah, Loki sounded about right. Yet, even when requested by title, the onyx shaded horse of the plains warily stayed where it was. Its bandit owner renewed cursing his ill luck. Feh, no matter. Dumb beast. Setting aside the topic of who the horse belonged to as well as its name and to get it to obey, Markten began the task of tying his prisoner's hands along with feet with rope. He would punish the animal later when finished here. Loki, whoever the horse was, could expect little rations in the coming days! That would show it who was boss!

As for Augnus, he didn't awaken, didn't even make a sound, during the entire activity of him being bound, meaning he must have really gotten hit hard at which Markten prided himself. After having punched the grimy bowman in the face several times, the magic user deserved a taste of his own medicine, did he not?

In a matter of hasty minutes, the hostage's limbs were handicapped with bonds. Now, even if he did gain awareness again, Augnus wouldn't be able to do anything against Markten. He was helpless, especially when his marauder captor took away his satchel that contained his books plus supplies. Now, the shaman didn't have his magic. Well, mind, he still did have a secret source of the arcane arts inside himself personally but... he couldn't _use _that. Not even for emergencies, truth be told. It was still unstable and, by dragon's fury, Augnus was scared to death of the stuff! Of what it could do if something went wrong!

Done with taking away his victim's resources as well as means to get away, Markten next took to hoisting his limp prey onto the horse, "Loki", at which he cursed aloud. The hostage, being a youth, was a bit heavier than he looked... like three times heavier! What did he eat for meals? Rocks? Well, if so, that was understandable. Having been part of the Beast gang for some years and seeing as how that group hadn't ever really left Sacae much, Markten better understood than most the trial of gathering food in the plains. With the silent openness all around, finding provisions in Hanon's realm proved to be a bigger challenge than most cared to think. Animals could spot a hunter coming from miles away. This gave them time to scamper away for safer ground. As for vegetation... the grass mostly covered those from sight.

Supposedly, the nomad savages scrounged up food from the grasslands without trouble. Considering how the natives lived, though, they probably did so in unnatural ways. Who was to say this random traveler didn't follow Hanon's ways too? He was a follower of the dark arts, as a matter of fact. That was evidence enough. Man, did the kid really eat rocks, twigs, plus soil? If true, how bizarre. Well, no matter. The shaman could forget that kind of stuff when in a Bern plantation. There would be plenty of gruel to dine on there, ha ha.

The horse actually remained still when approached. Good. If the steed took off again, Markten would have loosed an arrow in its ass and been done with the issue. Loki whinnied aloud when given the weight of the intense burden of a boy Markten shouldered. Then, the gallant steed snorted in effort when it allowed the marauder to mount.

Turning his ride about, Markten gave the deceased Bale in the tall grass one last look. The brigand assassin's demise was a shame as well as spelled future trouble. Already, Markten knew what story to tell his boss if asked why Bale was absent. The boy, the shaman, had taken out the assassin. That would sound far fetched but, fortunately, the bowman had proof to back his tale. He would merely need to show Augnus's books to be believed.

Really, although they had worked alongside each other for many years, Markten had cared little about his long term partner in the slavery business. They had only been accomplices, not even remotely close to being friends like one would expect with how much they had done. It was common sense that when in the Beast gang, in any outlaw group, it was every man for himself. That was certainly a law of the criminal world, anyway, that Markten stuck to. He felt a bit shaken to see his ally dead by his hand, true, but, really, he wouldn't be held down by it for long. Guilt wasn't the way for criminals. They took and only took for themselves. There was no room for anyone or anything else or a bandit would find himself betrayed or, worse, dead.

Heck, why even feel bad? Bale was probably happier where he was at the moment! The guy hadn't really been right in the head since becoming a Beast and, seriously, his obsession with knives never helped the tension in missions. Nah, the assassin didn't have to worry about anything now. Being dead, at the moment, he might actually be robbing angels rather than mugging Elibian commoners! What a funny possibility.

Markten couldn't help but grin at the odd theory of "angel mugging" before laughing out, "Best of luck to ya, then, Bale, my friend! Been nice working with ya but you're robbing the heavens or wherever ya are now, right? Ah ha ha!" Finding his own humor funny, the archer then spurred his horse to gallop southwards after his boss while cackling. As for Bale, he clearly remained in his final resting place with an arrow still jutting from his form. It was odd but... if one were present to see him, they would feel an uncertain sympathy towards the dead man. Even though deserving ill, he had been betrayed in the worst way. Now, without a proper grave, he faced rotting away if not devoured by wildlife first. What a fate.

Not paying any attention to his own cold hearted behavior, Markten rode southwards with renewed energy. He was well aware that Batta the Beast wouldn't have reached the mountains yet. His boss would be somewhere in the southern valleys in the mountain shadows, instead. Boy, wait until he saw what Markten had caught in his net!

As Augnus was carted off for parts unknown in the hands of a delinquent cutthroat on the back of Loki so called, he wasn't completely gone. Oh, yes, his body remained motionless on the back of the speeding horse but his mind was racing with things. To be precise, they were the things that the shaman had come to Sacae to _escape_ and were visiting him in rapid procession during his weakened state. No matter the distance he ran, no matter the days or months or years that had passed, Augnus couldn't escape his past. He just couldn't and knew it. It was like someone trying to outrun their shadow, to get rid of it, which was impossible. However, despite the impossibility, the shaman dearly needed relief from his earlier days. He needed it not only for his own sake but for Elibe's as well. If he didn't find it... well, the results wouldn't be at all favorable but distasteful.

Thus, as Markten progressed in the opposite direction of the desired Bulgar, his hostage unwillingly endured a number of familiar dreams, images, as well as nightmares visit his mind's eye during the rough trip. The things the boy saw while going to meet the King of Monsters was not something he wished not to revisit but, heh, when were nightmares welcomed?

* * *

After being dealt the fearsome blows from Markten's bow, Augnus's capability to distinguish reality from fantasy slowly left him as did his awareness. The last thing he honestly saw before losing himself was the surrounding plains brilliantly illuminated in gold by the remainder of the dimming dusk in the horizon. With that, the shaman weakly fell backward. Meanwhile, his foggy eyes lifted towards the purpling heavens dotted by stars before he roughly hit the grassy earth. The sound of his impact fell upon his deafened ears. There, amid the grass, his mind gradually lost itself in gathering shadows.

He, in the least, registered Markten standing over him with a triumphant sneer as well as a onyx colored horse galloping forth later on. What came after, though, couldn't be clarified. By the time he'd been secured onto Loki's spine, the shaman had fallen into complete unconsciousness. Darkness took over his being.

Augnus no longer witnessed reality but realistic fantasy. He was in an utterly different, familiar, almost real world other than Elibe earlier. He wasn't investigating the ruined native settlement in the wide, open plains of Sacae anymore or intently heading out towards Bulgar for reasons of his own. He wasn't with Markten on the horse, racing through the plains, either. His "physical" self may have been doing that. Currently, though, the same couldn't be said for his "mental" state which was... well, wherever Augnus's mind was, was anyone's guess.

The boy's surroundings were an absolute darkness, dense enough even that it felt as if a blanket had literally been laid over the his eyes to leave him incapable of finding his way. Keep in mind, this wasn't natural darkness made by the setting of the sun in the west but something that felt unnatural. Maybe, instead, supernatural.

Frustratingly, no matter how Augnus tried to do otherwise, he couldn't see anything but blackness before him as he tried to make his way along a certain road he couldn't even see. His excellent vision only granted him some respite. He could see several feet ahead, at the least. That didn't really help, though. Every so often, during his futile efforts of trying to venture about, Augnus would still stumble, fumble, trip, as well as lose himself amid the endless shadows all around.

The experience of being lost was madness to Augnus. His eyes were perfect, his magic was powerful, yet, here in this eerie realm, he was unable to do anything to improve his distressful position. What he did know, though, was that he was becoming growingly afraid and he was running blindly for his life. From what he fled, the shaman couldn't rightly explain but he was certain that it was the same reason he had run back in reality as well as eventually settled in Sacae after a number of years.

Yes, the boy was avoiding _"them" _who served _"him"_ who wanted the certain secret, immeasurable power Augnus held deep inside himself for safekeeping... who wanted that _thing _that the shaman had furiously demonstrated only a little bit ago out in the Sacae plains before being tied up_._

Yet, no, "they" as well as their "master of shadows" wouldn't ever achieve their goals! They wouldn't capture Augnus and take his secret from him! Not when he had gotten so far in his journey. He would learn to control his ailment, his pent up arcane abilities within, and exact revenge on the wicked that had continually trailed as well as hurt him since he'd escaped their organization years ago. The only thing he truly needed above all others was time and, to get that, he had to keep running. A day would eventually come where the shaman would be able to turn around to face his fate, of course. At the moment, though, he wasn't prepared. He needed more precious time to ready himself for his destiny.

So, running was what Augnus was doing here in this dimension of shadows as well as across Elibe too. He was fleeing. From what he evaded he couldn't pinpoint for sure but, like in the real world, he knew the undesired threat was there watching, waiting, plotting.

At first, there in the blackness, it seemed the young man did the act of running away from his fears alone. However, with a start, he abruptly found out that that wasn't the case. He did, in fact, have a companion in tow.

Behind him, in single file as well as hand in hand with him, a girl Augnus's own age tried to keep up. Even with the environment shadowy, the shaman could tell that she was astonishingly beautiful. The girl's grace, her slim figure, could be mistaken for a goddess's at first sight. Like Augnus, her spine length hair was just as black as his and her eyes sparkled the same lavender shade.

This stranger the shaman speedily led along wasn't a stranger to him at all. She was more than a dream and he wished seeing her face wasn't always the nightmare it was made out to be in reality afterwards. This girl he brought along... she was exactly like him. She held a dreadful secret magic inside herself, she ran for her life, and showed the same kind of dread Augnus experienced in his heart. The pair of them... they were afraid. Something had been forced on them, this world of shadows had been forced on them! They needed to get out of it and back home! They needed to get out before "they" arrived with their "master" and took away the pair of youths' secrets that the people of Elibe couldn't ever know about! The peoples wouldn't be able to handle such power! The continent, the world, would surely go up in flames!

Unbelievably, no matter how far the pair of them ran, no progress was made from the horror the boy along with girl knew followed them.

Where was their exit from the shadows? Where was their relief from the frightening flight underway? The shadowy world remained deaf, quiet, to Augnus's questions and, stubbornly, he had plenty more energy to keep right on sprinting from what he was afraid of. The same couldn't be said for his fellow, though. The girl that trailed him tripped over her own feet. On the ground, she remained weakly sprawled. Horrified at seeing this, the shaman tried to get his friend to get back up but she shook her head while beginning to tremble. She looked up at him with her indigo eyes wide with fear.

What was going to happen to her when "they" came?

Nothing! Nothing was going to happen to her if she got back on her feet and began running again! Yet, even as Augnus attempted to get his companion to try dashing again, she shook her head to begin crying. Her sobs, although a growing uproar, remained silent in the dark. Turned out, this world was completely muted. The only thing the boy trying to escape could really hear was the quickening pace of his own heartbeat!

There was no time for this drama with "what" was coming! The pair of them needed to go! Now! Even so, the teary faced girl remained immobile at her place of rest. She merely went on weeping, wiping away her tears with her free hand in the most pathetic manner.

Utterly fed up with the weak display, Augnus did what only the coldest, cowardly, souls would ever do to a friend. He decided to abandon her. Yes, he was willing to do that and, truly, anyone might have done the same if they knew what he knew approached.

At seeing him trying to let go of her hand, the girl went from being weak to frantic. She, unlike Augnus, didn't want to let go. Her hold on him was surprisingly strong as steel and, no matter how he tried to do so, the shaman couldn't free himself from her. Her howling renewed as the struggle between them went on and, fierce as an animal now, Augnus literally began shouting muted things for his companion to let him go! If she wasn't going to run anymore, then let him go so that he could keep going! "They" were coming and he wasn't about to let them take him! He'd come too far for that! Yet, though fierce, his efforts to achieve freedom remained futile.

So, as Augnus tried pulling away from she who had clamped onto him, he looked around frantically and what he noticed coming in the distance behind the seated girl made him freeze. His heart, his breathing, his mind, his body entirely, just stopped as the air adopted an icy chill.

There were unnaturally golden eyes, several of them, coming closer from the dark with every rapid heartbeat Augnus felt. Instantly, the situation didn't need to be spelled out to him. "They" had finally arrived. "They" had come at the order of their master and, with ill tidings, looked to do his malicious biddings which, at the moment, was to apprehend the two who bickered in the dark. They were to capture the downed girl plus breathless boy watching them.

Despite himself, like a petrified statue, Augnus observed in dismay as the yellow eyes grew in number from being five pair to ten then to twenty odd while approaching him as well as the maiden he involuntarily remained with. After finally recollecting himself from his shock, the shaman then, like a rabbit trying to escape its pen, repeatedly began trying to free himself from his ally who became pleading again. The girl clinging onto Augnus couldn't say anything to him but he could clearly see the message in her shimmering eyes.

"Help me!" She implored without silent words. She just mouthed the exclamation in the shadows from the ground.

How could Augnus, by dragon's fire, help the girl if she was too unwilling herself to even get back up? Confound it, get up and run! Help yourself!

The panicked exchange wasn't complete between boy and girl when the most bizarre thing happened next. The gold eyes had become dozens by the time they were upon the struggling pair of black haired, violet eyed, companions and, from the dark surroundings, hundreds of hands burst forth from nowhere!

Like the underneath of a massive millipede, the dozens of free limbs from the gloom waved about randomly everywhere as a mass of them closest instantly took hold of Augnus's fellow The girl's eyes grew larger in size at this and her sobs renewed in terror as the hands grabbing onto her roughly pulled her back into the murkiness they came forth from. Utter bewilderment, fright, as well as cowardice ignited in her only helper's heart and Augnus renewed his efforts to be freed from her. Finally, just as the hands seemed ready to grab onto him, the boy was released! He roughly fell backwards, then began running again but not before witnessing the consequences of his actions. His girl companion, who was crying out hysterically with the alien hands gripping her arms, legs, torso, shoulders, gave him one last frightened stare through the dimness at the pause in his departure.

"Help me!" She said one last time with her shining violet eyes and, after that, even those were hidden away by the mass of hands.

In alarm, Augnus sprinted away as his beautiful fellow was slowly absorbed into the accumulation of groping limbs. It was the girl's own fault for being caught, wasn't it? She didn't want to run anymore... now she was facing the proper reward! Augnus didn't want to die or fade away or whatever those golden eyes had in store for him as they followed his tracks and, again, he just couldn't outrun them. He couldn't outrun his past. It was like trying to lose your shadow during the daytime... which was an impossible feat.

The eyes, the hands, were gaining ground on him but, once more, Augnus was surprised again to find he wasn't alone in running from the terrors trailing him.

To either of the shaman's sides now were two new, familiar faces. His newly arrived, exotic fellows both appeared to be siblings with matching aqua hair as well as burning amber colored eyes. The one who ran alongside Augnus's left side was a young lad, almost a child, garbed in light material clothes. The other to Augnus's right was an older lass, the boy's older sister maybe, who ran in a simple dress.

The two new children, like the only recently abducted girl from earlier, were not strangers to Augnus. They were... friends? The shaman knew that they, both boy plus girl or brother/ sister, personally carried dreadful secrets, burdens, like him too and that the world couldn't handle their secrets if they were unleashed. Dreadfully, no matter their speed in sprinting along, Augnus knew that the hands would get the aqua haired duo too. It was always the way this dream or vision or whatever always went because... there was truth behind it and this truth hadn't ever stopped haunting him since it had transpired those many years ago.

That truth was why Augnus had went to Ilia, to Lycia, and even to empty Sacae to escape this being shown to him but... the eyes along with hands were going to even reach him there in the plains, weren't they? Their influences were spread wide as well as far in the unsuspected shadowy corners of reality.

Well, Augnus had come to be confident in himself for the past few years. So, let his pursuers come! He was ready for them! For their wickedness!

The girl or older sister let out a silenced cry of fright when hands came out of the floor to grab onto her! Her little brother, who came to her aid at once, was next and, by the time Augnus turned to help them, his pair of allies were waist deep in writhing hands pulling them downwards into the floor to who knew where! Finding strength in his newfound spirits, controlling his fear, the shaman reached out to take hold of both his trapped companions who grabbed onto the hands he offered them! He learned with the last girl, his last ally, taken by the eyes that he couldn't allow this atrocity to occur again! He couldn't keep running away from those in need like some wretch! Especially not when folk needed him most!

Yet, even though his efforts were valiant and his will strong, Augnus found himself being dragged down closer to the hands looking to grab him too. After a few strained moments of tug of war, with a slew of curses, the shaman had no choice but to let go at which the aqua haired siblings were lost underground to the swarms of limbs in a blink!

Swearing at himself for his fear, for his building chain of failures, the boy fled from the scene with swiftness seen rarely! Nevertheless, the yellow eyes gained on him with every breath he took. Being alone now, the hands began groping out of the shadows from ever direction at Augnus! He barely dodged some grabs from his left, evaded others from the right, then hardly jumped over another collection from below! During this race all the while, the eyes gained on him, even passed by, until they fully encircled their prey!

There were thousands of golden eyes now watching Augnus, who didn't know what to do. Everywhere, he was being watched There was nowhere else for him to turn, to escape. He had no magic to call into service as protection. He had nothing. His friends had been taken and now... was he next? What were the hands waiting for? More importantly, the shaman had come so far! This couldn't be the end!

"_My dearest boy..."_

A chilling voice actually penetrated the firm deafness of the world and echoed in Augnus's ears. The young man whirled around to find himself facing an older man who was seriously aged and, over his tall body, he was adorned in heavy robes of the darkest colors with am exotic turban wrapped around his head to cover his left eye. The one eye the elder showed was far worse than those all around in the gloom and, growing in anxiety, Augnus wished more than anything that the robed man would stop looking at him so hungrily.

The shaman didn't need anything said. He didn't need an explanation of what was going on. The boy knew this old man ominously facing him had been the one who had interrupted the grim muteness of the realm and... after hearing him for the first time those many years ago after "that" had occurred, Augnus would know that voice anywhere as well as who it belonged to.

Unable to find his own lost voice, Augnus could only watch as the aged elder across from him put on a wicked smile while spreading his arms wide and said through the dark in a spine-chilling tone, "You should've known that you could never escape me, _Geddon. _Now... let us return to that which needs to be done, shall we?"

Geddon? That wasn't Augnus... not at all. Where had that come from?

Wait, no... No, no, no, no, no! Never, ever, ever would Augnus go back "there" to do what the present old man needed done! The shaman wouldn't go within a hundred miles of "that" place to do to others what had been done to him, to his friends that had just been taken by the hands and eyes! No way!

Yet, as he whirled around to fly, the decision to flee was taken from Augnus when he felt a sensation at his feet. Next, he couldn't move. When he looked down in confusion, his breath immediately left him.

Distracted by the sinister elder, the shaman hadn't noticed that hands had come out of the ground beneath him to drag him downwards! In a panic, Augnus tried everything to be let go but nothing worked. First his legs were swallowed up, next his torso, then his arms! Lastly, all the boy could do was let out a silent scream as the hands were up to his neck and the one eyed man in robes hissed, "Let us return to that which needs to be done, Geddon, shall we?"

_His name wasn't Geddon! It was Augnus and NO! This couldn't be! He wouldn't cooperate!_

Ignoring his valiant resistance, the dozens of hands yanked the remainder of Augnus down into the shadows and there he seemed to enter a free fall state. The robed man vanished from sight at once. While he continued to emit a mute scream, Augnus's body seemed to become weightless in the empty, bottomless darkness as his trembling heart felt just about ready to explode from his rib cage into a billion pieces! He needed out of here! By dragon's fire, he needed freedom from this torture now!

The shaman was sorry for everything, for everyone, that he had hurt with his powers! He just wanted to be left alone! Was that too much to ask? Yes, yes it was too much for a murderer, an alien, to request for some relief from the troubles he had brought upon himself. He fell through the dark due to his own actions. It was his own fault that the three who followed him through the dark had been taken before him by the eyes plus hands.

Now, his own judgment awaited.

Augnus had no one to blame but himself for the nightmares he currently witnessed of friends falling prey to shadowy hands. He knew so without question and had no argument to deny it. Ever since he'd been brought into Elibe, ever since he'd taken the sinister offer presented to him in his own world despite the warnings, he had only caused harm, danger, as well as death to this realm. Wherever he went, catastrophe was sure to follow his steps. However, could he not right that or make it go away? Could he not find redemption anywhere? Was his efforts to try to control himself, to be a good soul, a vain effort out in Hanon's realm of Sacae? Augnus tried not to believe so... but these evil visions, nightmares, of his didn't help him in the slightest. In the least, they needed to go away and let him try to be a better man. They needed to give him a second chance!

* * *

It took Augnus some time to distinguish reality from fantasy as he gradually awoke from the torturous apparitions set on reminding him of his past. As the effects of Markten's earlier blow began to wear off and the shaman started to regain awareness, he found himself stuck in between the worlds of wakefulness as well as slumber. Naturally, the shaman wasn't a special case nor was this the first time he'd experienced being half awake-half asleep. Other people underwent this sensation of crossing an imaginary bridge at every dawn plus dusk as they either fell asleep or awoke from it. The moment, the bridge, was where persons crossed from what was real to what wasn't and vice versa.

A majority of the times, when this bizarre feeling crossed someone, he or she had no trouble afterwards. They would sleep in peace while experiencing a pleasant dream or none at all, then awaken feeling quite rested. However, not everything was good in this world and there was no acceptation for this certain subject. If an individual, much like Augnus currently, was undergoing a terrible dream, the journey back to what was real somewhat dragged on... and on. He just couldn't get out of his nightmare. He couldn't get away from the hands, they eyes, his terrible past times!

The hands along with eyes were back for more while Augnus was trying to wake up. As the groping limbs from the bottomless abyss below reached up to seize the boy at whatever they could get, their victim thrashed about with every ounce of his strength! Powered by the adrenaline in his veins caused by fear, letting out deafened exclamations as well as curses as fingers clamped around his wrists as well as feet to render his movements, he tried to do what he could to free himself. No matter how he tried, though, the hands swarmed over his frame until coming to his very face to make him utterly blind in sight.

Angered with being so helpless in getting away from the shadows, Augnus renewed his attempts at finding freedom with a snarl! He flailed harshly against his assaulters and, when a sheer spasm of pain shrieked into his head as a result, everything immediately ended. The blackness didn't vanish but lightened up. The eyes along with hands retreated from sight and, with a roar, sound actually returned in which the shaman not only could hear his heart racing but also his labored breathing. It took several more moments for him to realize he wasn't dreaming anymore. When he registered that he wasn't, indeed, falling into a pit of alien limbs intent on swarming him, he tried to relax, despite the remaining sense of dread in his heavy soul along with shaken heart.

Another nightmare, then? Ugh, what a spectacle. It was always the same repeated image shown too. So, if it was a repeat, why did it never fail in getting the better of the young man who steadied his breathing to try and cool down better. Perhaps, because it seemed so real? No matter. It was over now, in the past. Now, there were more important things like... where was he now?

As more minutes passed, the more Augnus came to realize what exactly was going on and how he had even ended up in a situation. At feeling the throbbing numbness of his cheek, he recalled the two rogues that had ambushed him back at the nomad camp at sunset. At that, he wondered where Markten as well as his odd assistant, Bale, had gone. What was more, why on Elibe was he still alive? Well, mind, this Batta guy sounded like a slaver... his cronies would want to capture as many folk as possible to sell, then. A waste of life meant a waste of coin. Thus, Markten and Bale bringing the boss another sales item would keep him happy.

So, uh, is that what had happened to the shaman? Had Augnus just been taken as a slave for being so downright careless? For being overconfident in his abilities? That made sense. It would if it was true, that was. At the moment, Augnus really had no idea of what was going on or what his future held for him. There were no real clues present for him to use to decide on an answer. For one, he found out he was stripped of his things. To his confusion, he was without his shirt, cloak, boots, supplies, so on. Second, his head plus neck ached as much as his spine. Thirdly, he couldn't move his limbs much. He also couldn't see very well but, judging by being able to notice at least some illumination through what covered his eyes, he guessed he'd been blinded by a sack or wrap or such. Hm, this was an amateur attempt to keep him unstable, eh? Then, in the least, the shaman had to give the Beast gang some credit. Unlike the majority of the brigands he had run into over his years of travel across Elibe, - which had been many - Batta's crew appeared to have some brains about them. Bravo.

Within five minutes afterwards, Augnus predicted where he was as well as what position he was currently in. As Markten had announced when first appearing, the boy was property of Batta the Beast now. Literally, the young man was the chieftain's property as well as in his camp. Where else would he be? Most likely, Augnus was a slave or would be soon enough or so his captors thought. The bandits, ha, they didn't know what they had truly captured and it wasn't a simple youth who specialized in the dark magics. Nah, at one point, they would realize their mistake in underestimating their prey. The boy just needed the chance to show them.

Thinking back to his nightmare, the dozens of hands had grabbed onto Augnus's limbs which handicapped his ways to move. Turns out, they only reflected his true state. Ropes, thick ones, tightly bound the shaman's hands behind him at the wrists as well as kept his feet together at the ankles in front of him. The hands that had grabbed at the shaman's face, making him feel incredibly claustrophobic, was more than likely the burlap sack thrown over his head at this point and, regardless of the hindrance to not being able to see good, he could easily tell his arms were tied behind him closely to a wooden pole or something along those lines. The stake the boy was strapped to explained the reason for why his back hurt.

How long had he been out, leaning against the wood? As for the throbbing in the back of his head, well, when the nightmare had reached its peak, Augnus had flailed about in a panic. He, undoubtedly in his unaware status, had smacked his skull good against the post he was roped to. Great. Just great. Now did he not only have awful images of long lost friends being dragged into the dark but, man, his entire body hurt. It was as if he'd ridden on the back of a horse for an hour or two on his stomach beforehand which, unaware, he had. Good grief.

So, this was it, eh? This was how he was to begin his journey in redeeming himself in Sacae, almighty Elimine, the blessed leader of the eight? Hmf, typical.

After thinking this to himself with a snort, Augnus tried to find a better position to sit in. Turned out that when one was tied so well to a pole for an unknown span of time, though, he or she couldn't find much solace from the discomfort that visited them. It, honestly, must have been an hour or two since the shaman had been put into this very annoying prisoner situation. He could tell just by the condition of his hands which were numbing due to little blood circulation cause by the bindings. They seemed a bit too tight.

Where Augnus was, where anyone was, was a very good question without a suitable answer. Of course, the young man realized he was captured by the Beast gang or so called. He very well could be sitting in their camp. A slight breeze rolled over him, revealing that he was outside, maybe? Was he with the slaves? No. There was stiff silence only occasionally interrupted by a muffled sound that seemed far off. With the bag over his head, a lot of things were blurry, fuzzy. After having just woken up from one of the worst nightmares he'd had in a long while too, the shaman wasn't exactly keen or at his best. He was recovering as well as trying to figure out what could be done to help him get out of the ropes that pinned him.

Sitting around reminiscing about the past, wallowing in self pity at what he'd witnessed in his sleep, wouldn't benefit anyone. If he was in the camp, an unplanned but desired step had been made. He wouldn't be far away from the imprisoned nomads then. Yet, what could he do to get to them? What options did he have at his disposal?

Magic! Augnus didn't have his tomes, true, but, unlike other magic users, he could still use the arcane elements inside himself - the force he'd used to make the craters in the plains - to break free from being trapped, right? No, wrong.

With a hiss, the shaman resisted the urge to even think about using the sinister force hiding inside himself that illuminated the hidden lines on his figure. It was a curse to him today. It was the reason... why he ran for his life these days, why he had the nightmares, why he wanted to stay isolated from Elibe itself in the wide open grasslands of Hanon's realm. The same couldn't be said about it in the past but, in his current state, the boy didn't dare try to use his own personal dark magic. Not until he felt he was ready after much practice in isolate Sacae. He could call upon it now, the option was there, but only if he didn't care about his safety along with the slaves' which, obviously, he did. There wasn't much sense in trying to be hero and failing in the objective, correct?

The brigands deserved punishment, true, but Augnus didn't know if the imprisoned were near or not. The slaves were top priority to him. Being on a road to self salvation as well as seeking redemption from his past actions, the shaman didn't dare take the risk of going berserk with his powers and taking the lives of both bandits and innocents. He got the feeling that that much bloodshed wouldn't get him anywhere closer to finding inner peace for himself. Therefore, above all else, he could not rely on his personal powers. They weren't controllable. Not yet. Too many times had he tried to control it when not ready, like now, and failed in doing so. Failing led to him creating craters, blowing things up, taking lives. No, he couldn't do it. He couldn't call on his dark secret for help. Not even a little bit in breaking from the ropes. It was too damn risky.

Sighing to himself, Augnus rested his head with a little "thud" against the post he was tied to.

If only he'd stuck to the plan. Bulgar. Why hadn't he just kept right on going past the smoke to the city, gotten his coin plus supplies, then resumed training to control his emotions like he had done in the past months? Meh, he already knew the answer. He had a soft heart, despite his attempts not to show it. He couldn't pass by possible trouble. He couldn't continue on to Bulgar if he realized there were folk in need and, thus, look at him now. Some hero, huh? Well, he most certainly would be, mind. This situation with bandits wasn't any different than the others Augnus had dealt with. Like before, he would find his crucial chance to act, to ruin evil's plans. Until then, though, until he freed the prisoners as well as routed Batta's group, the shaman would have to settle with feeling slightly ashamed at being captured.

Most wouldn't expect someone like a user of the dark arts to be such a kind man. Yet, who were they to judge? Unfortunately, Elibe was a place filled with judgers. Especially in Sacae could a person find judgment everywhere. The racist nobles of every other nation, in Bern to Ilia to even enlightened Etruria, claimed that the nomads of Hanon were supposedly mindless beasts, little better than convicts, that followed all kinds of beastial teachings. These stories were far fetched but, unlike Augnus, no one had the proof to say so. Fear took root in the hearts of the foolish too soon and, before they ever gained the courage to visit Sacae, everyone had joined in the racism against those that traversed the grasslands that the legendary horse archer of the eight had called home. Hmf, folk even had the nerve to put down Hanon. Thus, the horse rider wasn't looked upon with much praise and, truly, he was one of the mighty eight generals of legend. How could that be?

The arrogance of humans... it never ceased to amaze Augnus who snickered at thinking of how dumb the people of Elibe were. They didn't realize how lucky they were with the freedom to live together, to cooperate, to contribute towards the future alongside each other. They had everything the young man didn't and so dearly wanted throughout his life. Yet, the Elibians were so dull with each other, despite their blessings. Imagine what they would do if they ever discovered the burden Augnus kept from them? Well, someone already did and he'd only gain more pursuers who would want his power if anyone else knew.

If the Elibians ever got the shaman's secret, the results would be devastating. Another "Scouring" would occur and why wouldn't it? Humans were so very dumb about things. They were so very supposedly misunderstood, power hungry, as well as untrustworthy. Oh, Augnus had known that about them before even coming into this world. It wasn't until he'd actually arrived here that he witnessed just how much ridiculous truth there was in the statement.

However, he hadn't come into the world as well as so far in his ventures for the past years to lose his secret to someone at this point. If anything, he would rather take his own life then allow the dark secret - his personal magic that didn't require books to cast - to be taken from him for the wrong purposes. Really, he would destroy Elibe than allow it to learn of his secret. That was how dedicated he was to his cause and, curse it, this little scuffle with bandits was child's play compared to what he'd been through before! Like his life, for example!

The marauders had no idea what they actually had on their hands. By dragon's claw, ha, they practically had a ticking time bomb waiting for the right opportunity to explode! If they didn't handle him too cautiously, he could very well do just that. However, getting a better grip of himself, Augnus agreed not to lose control to his personal magic unless under dire circumstances... like if he was about to die to these bandits. That possibility, of course, was little to none but was there. Death wasn't something he was willing to accept yet. Augnus wouldn't accept it until he met "him", "him" being the wicked old man in his nightmare in heavy robes, again and exacted revenge. Oh, no, that elderly man wasn't an apparition. He was real enough. It was because of that elder with one eye showing that the shaman had been dragged into Elibe, that many of his friends were deceased, and he now possibly had to deal with this terrible Batta the Beast too.

The old man in heavy robes, he wanted Augnus's powers. He was the cause of everything unfortunate that had happened to the boy in the past up until now. He was the master of the various minions, of the golden eyes plus hands from the shadows in the nightmare, that had trailed the isolate shaman to Ilia, to Lycia, and now to Sacae eventually. However, here, he wouldn't have much luck in cornering his alert prey.

Out in the plains, where no one pure was present to be hurt, Augnus would unleash his wrath upon his old enemy. He would kill off anyone that looked to steal his powers for wrong doing and, although he once did what his pursuers intended to do in his earlier days, he'd changed since then. He didn't want lives to end anymore because he was angry. He didn't want this world to suffer for what it had done to not only him but his kind in general in the past... He just wanted things to go back to normal since "she", the black haired violet eyed girl in his dream, his very closest friend in life, had shown him the terrible results of his continual anger.

Due to his rage, to his blindness, she had passed on. Not just passed on but been killed in the most inhumane way... by the sinister old man in robes. Oh, the elder wasn't done there. He wanted more death, more power, and Augnus was the key to that. The boy, his berserk powers, was the answer.

"Damn it, Augnus..." The tied up young man uttered out in a cough under the bag over his head, "Stop that kind of thinking. It doesn't help, you know, you big lout."

The matter of the past was something else entirely than what was currently going. Right now, he needed to worry about himself, about the slaves, plus Batta the Beast. Yet, as he looked to deal with the present trouble on his hands, Augnus paused in struggling with his ropes when thinking of his best friend, the girl, from the nightmare.

Every time that horrible visage visited him during his sleep, he looked to abandon the girl because she was a burden to him. However, she didn't want him to go without her and, like the worst kind of coward, he still left her to the hands when they came. The limbs sucking her into the void reflected a true, horrendous past event of Augnus's. It reminded him of his actions, of the day those years ago that his misled anger... had brought about his very best friend's end. At this, in a sorrowful trance against the wood pole, Augnus recalled seeing the last of the black haired purple eyed girl's face being grabbed up by the many hands. It wasn't the most pleasant memory to have of her but, truly, that was all he had and, considering her importance to him, he endured the pain of recalling her being grabbed up. Then, in little more than a whisper, he reminded himself of her name. Never would he forget it. Never.

"Samandra..."

Truly, a beautiful _name _for a beautiful _girl_, all wasted due to her best friend's carelessness and ignorance of her warnings. She was a personal topic only Augnus knew of and never had he discussed her with others. She had been the eternal balance to his ferocity. She still was, even when dead. In the end, though, she suffered the ultimate penalty for Augnus's choices and, to this day, her death affected him terribly.

It was a struggle every day for Augnus not to weep for her. Never would he forget "Samandra", his childhood friend that had tried her absolute hardest to keep him from falling into the desperate situation he was currently in. She taught him through her death, in the least, of what he needed to do. The boy needed to wake up, sharpen up, wise up. If he didn't, the sinister old man after him would never pay for taking her life. He would never pay for the much bloodshed he had and still brought about in the shadows.

In her memory, in Samandra's memory, Augnus had taken upon himself to practice controlling his powers, biding his time in Elibe, as well as walking a path towards redemption. Hopefully, at the end of it all, he would accomplish what he wished. He would be forgiven for his past actions. Yet, even if he was not worthy of forgiveness, as long as he who had killed Samandra himself perished would Augnus accept death's visit without fear and be able to face his long lost friend in the afterlife... wherever that was. It would be even better if, when first seeing her again, Samandra would give him a smile. She always did have the most attractive smile. Angels themselves couldn't copy her grin. It was a unique shining beam that had no equal. Hard to believe, of course, but one would just have to see it to believe it.

"Well, Samandra, my friend..." Augnus whispered to himself as he began to struggle with his bindings, knowing already that he was in a pretty tight situation that he might not get off by "normal" means, "If you're mad at me for what I did to you, if you're the one delivering nightmares into my head, I completely understand." Yes, he did understand. He truly did.

The shaman grimaced when his wrists burned from rubbing together against the ropes wrongly. Nothing could be done. For bandits, the scum had really taken away any hopes of escape for him. Markten, most likely, had made it clear to his buds that they had a magic user on their hands. Therefore, they'd not taken any chances with Augnus who exhaled deeply in weariness. Nothing was ever easy, was it? Well, what was new? The boy paused a moment in his attempts of freeing himself to catch his breath as well as think through things. Man, he had been in plenty of situations like this. The only real difference now was that the only real option of escape to him... was to use his powers. He had to risk maybe going berserk to get anywhere. It was either that or perhaps wait for another opportunity but, truly, where would he have another chance to make a move? Hopefully, soon. This seemed the best time to act, otherwise.

'Samandra," Augnus said softly, trying to remain wise as well as clear headed like she would have wanted him to if she were with him, "I don't know if you would help me, your reason for being gone, but, please, I implore you... if you wouldn't mind, I would like some assistance here."

He could imagine it. Samandra alive, he meant. She would've been gorgeous and beside him at the post. She would be telling him off for being careless with bandits, she would be impatient with things, but, most of all, she would be _there _with him, sharing the experience. Together, the friends would find a way to free themselves. Together, they would aid the slaves. Together, they would get through this conflict.

Yet, that wasn't nor couldn't be the case here. No, Augnus remained by himself with his limbs tied up as well as half blind. However, like now, he never really considered himself alone. Nah, Samandra was probably mad at him in heaven or wherever she was but, heh, she was watching over him, regardless. She was with him, one way or the other. She always would be too. If the shaman wanted help from anyone, he wished it from her and he presently needed her aid quite badly. He didn't want to go berserk, he wanted to get out of this without taking innocent life. He needed a miracle. He needed his best friend to send him one.

"Please, Samandra. I'm trying to do what's right. Care to lend me a helping hand? Could you maybe get Elimine's ear for me?"

An answer actually came to the prisoner's inquiries for help from the supernatural. Was it good or bad? Augnus didn't find out at first but he stiffened when a change in the environment occurred.

Ever since regaining his awareness, he hadn't heard anything but himself because there was _only _himself. He could hear his thoughts, his beating heart, along with his breathing alone until, that was, new noises suddenly became audible in the distance some feet away.

As mentioned beforehand, the boy's vision was sharp. The same could be said for his hearing, for his other senses, too. Taste, smell, combat, magic, healing, he excelled in those plus more. So, where normal people usually wouldn't have suspected it until last minute, Augnus could immediately tell he was going to have company soon. Several voices, not friendly, were closing in on his position. What they intended to do once to him, he couldn't determine. Nonetheless, he could guess that the visitors would be more of Batta's cronies and, ugh, brigands didn't come to talk idle chatter with a prisoner. Nah, after years of dealing with convicts, Augnus could depend on them coming to beat the living tar out of him. That or taunt him with words. Either way, it would allow them to vent out some anger as well as feel superior overall.

Augnus glanced upwards towards where he knew the stars glistened. After that, as the voices approached, he chuckled to himself. So this was the answer to his pleas for help, eh? No miracle was coming his way, huh? Only trouble? Very well. He deserved such. He truly did.

"Alright, Samandra." The shaman said, trying to control his growing anxiety plus harden himself for whatever was to come, "I get it. You're not talking to me but giving me the silent treatment. Fine." He quieted to listen to his visitors near. Just as the arrivals were just about to him, though, he requested one last thing, "Still, Samandra, I would appreciate some help here. This might get bad. If anything, pray for me... I need all the help of any kind that I can get at the moment. Thanks for your time." With that, Augnus silenced. He looked away from the sky to focus on what to expect coming. He directed his attention from Samandra onto they who were just arriving for reasons unknown.

"Here he is." A familiar, ragged voice sneered when finally within close enough distance to be heard clearly. The shaman ignored the silly statement - where else would he be when tied up but here? - to begin complex calculations in his head. During his years of being on the run, he left no stone unturned nor any detail unchecked. After having survived numerous life threatening events, he wasn't normal in any aspect. He was observant, wise, and hopefully strong enough to endure the hardships in his near future.

After having heard the voices of the approaching men, the crunching of their numerous boots against the sandy ground instantly confirmed Augnus's suspicions he wasn't being visited by a lone soul. There had to be five or six other marauders with the boy now and they surrounded his position. He couldn't deny it. Most would to act tough but that was foolishness. Fear, uncertainty, dismay, flickered at the edges of Augnus's mind when registering so many had come to get him. Who wouldn't be afraid for their well being now? However, he had to remain in control. He had to stay calm. Why the brutes had come to him was a riddle without an answer but, surely, the shaman would find out sooner than late. Whether in a civilized way or not was still up in the air.

The man that had spoken the obvious before in the nearly recognizable, odd voice, spoke again. His raspy words weren't directed to the outnumbered/ handicapped hostage trying to remain calm but to those others who were in attendance with him, "Watch yourselves, mates. This fellow may not look too dangerous tied up to that there post as well as with his little books taken away but... ya can't be too careful with his kind. Magic users are tricky and poor ol' Bale found that out the, er, hard way."

Bale? At the mention of the name, the shaman could now guess who it was that was preaching to his companions. Judging by the voice plus knowledge of Bale, the speaker had to be Markten. It had to be.

Again, the mysterious speaker spoke to his allies, "Ya all remember good Bale, right? Good with knives, he was. Could've thrown one clean into any knight's chest with _insane _ease. Of course, heh, the bloke was rather _insane_, wasn't he?" There were chortles from ever direction at the comment. The speaker laughed at his own humor too at which Augnus grimaced to himself. Yeah, this was unmistakably Markten speaking. Ugh, he was back for more, eh? How typical. Anyway, it seemed Bale _hadn't _been right in the head. Also, he was dead, was he? Well, one less criminal in the world. About another million to go, right?

"Unfortunately, I'm afraid none of us will be seeing the assassin around anymore. Ya won't find him sharpening his blades with the boss, ya won't see him intimidating the other gangs in the Bern mountains, and ya won't witness him professionally rounding up slaves like he did earlier today." There was a mocking sense of mourning in Markten's voice as he went about speaking good of Bale. What good there was about that odd knife user was beyond Augnus, who rolled his eyes under the sack. He knew he was being put through this on purpose. He would rather just skip it all and take the beating he was going to get. Seriously, he was going to go through a beating. Why would there be six other guys around him otherwise?

The shaman let out a huff as Markten resumed his speech after a dramatic pause, "Why, do ya ask, will we not be seeing him?" Another purposeful silence transpired where Augnus could swear, due to his senses, every eye was on him. It was a bit unnerving but bearable. Then, the bound boy heard, "Well, why don't we ask he who is responsible for poor ol' Bale's death, eh?" With that said, a scuffing of feet scraping against the ground sounded out as a pair of individuals moved towards Augnus who prepped himself for the worse. In truth, he expected fists to begin hitting him from nowhere but was only surprised as the item over his head was roughly ripped off, instead.

At once, with the obstacle obscuring his sight removed, the shaman had to take a moment to let his eyes adjust to his surroundings. The illumination through the bag was softened into a soft shade beforehand. Now, with nothing shielding it, the available light nearly blinded him for several seconds. As Augnus tried to clarify the blurry scene around him, he observed that two men figures knelt beside him to either of his sides. It became clear to him that it was these two who had taken off his cap and were, at the moment, working at the ropes holding him solidly to the hammered pole in the ground.

As he was being freed, Augnus looked back forward in a squint to Markten - it was the bandit archer, now that the shaman could better see - who said jeeringly, "Ah, the failure of a hero is awake." The bowman looked around to his fellows as Augnus's pair of guards roughly lifted him up onto his feet and admitted excitedly, "How very disappointing. I was hoping we could do ya a favor and wake ya back up, friend." At this, Markten neared his captive in a leap and howled, "Wait, I think I see several hints of sleep in those eyes! Perhaps I can still help you wake up, after all! Here you go!" Despite his attempts at readying himself, a pain erupted into the shaman's entire body when his tormentor delivered a precise punch to his stomach!

Augnus let out a tight, forced cough from the impact of Markten's blow and, against his will, was straightened back up by his burly holders. His vision was still terrible and, on top of that, he now was having trouble breathing as well as controlling his emotions. By dragon's fire, Markten couldn't do that again! The results, Augnus's berserk result, would be devastating to everyone nearby!

However, the sinister archer wasn't done. He did pause after punching his victim to bask in the glory his fellows gave him afterwards. The surrounding men guffawed at the bowman's actions, thinking it proper justice to what had happened to Bale. They were bandits. They knew nothing of justice. Really, they could care less. However, they'd lost a brother... in a sense. They wanted revenge and, St. Elimine above, they were going to get it. Even if it meant ignoring the boss's warnings. They weren't going to kill the boy, after all. Just rough him up before taking him to Batta for the "real" punishment. This little experience Augnus endured, it was nothing compared to what was coming.

Markten seized Augnus by the hair next and made the boy face him. He cackled out, "Uh oh, friend! You still look tired. Here, allow me to help you again. No, really, no need to be abashed. I INSIST!" With "INSIST", another punch to the gut came for Augnus who did his best to receive it without reacting badly! Nevertheless, the shaman couldn't hold back coughing out his pain afterwards while his guards lifted him back up.

Somewhat satisfied at seeing his fellows glorifying him with jeers as well as eager to join in the beating, Markten stepped away from his hostage. Not more than a few hours ago, the archer had been going through what Augnus currently felt back in the plains. In fact, the shaman had been the one that punched Markten several times while holding him down during interrogation. Well, how did the magic user like it? How did he favor being held against his will while suffering? It wasn't pleasant, that was for certain and, still excited, the bowman didn't plan to stop just yet.

Markten turned to his friends, gestured to the shaman, then hissed, "Everyone pitch in! The fool still looks a tad weary. Let's wake him up, for Bale's sake, so that the boss will have a good fight with him!" Fight? What? The question left Augnus's mind as soon as a nearby bandit right hooked him across the face!

Batta the Beast had sent Markten along with several of his men to retrieve Augnus for a purpose. What that exact "purpose" was, Augnus couldn't even guess but it couldn't be good. It had to be different than what he was going through at the hands of the bandits who had come to retrieve him from his isolate spot.

From everywhere, blows rained down upon the shaman who found it increasingly harder not to lose himself to his powers! Inside, he could feel his secret welling up. It fed off his growing sense of anger, hatred, pain, and fear. With each blow he received - whether it was into his stomach, face, sides, etc. - Augnus tried desperately to stay in control of his feelings. However, with each fist that hit him, he found his resolve leaving him bit by bit. Next, a fearsome monster was beginning to writhe within the shaman's heart. It was going to... it was going to be released if this didn't stop! No, stop this madness now!

Miraculously, the torture did, in fact, end as Augnus hoped. His assaulters slowly backed off, feeling satisfied with their fearsome work as well as relieved slightly from their anger over Bale's demise. For the meantime, anyway. At the moment, their turns to exact their version of justice on the failure of a hero was over. It was Batta's, the Beast of Beast's, turn now and, boy, would that be a spectacle to behold. The chieftain of the Beast gang was going to have a field day with this guy!

Augnus felt ill. Who wouldn't after having been beaten almost to a pulp - which is what he most likely looked like - for the past minute or two? Every square inch of his body screamed in protest as his veins pumped blood. The roaring sound of the shaman's beating heart rang in his ears. The dozens of injuries, bruises, along with wounds he suffered from the one sided brawl could have literally been on fire with how red plus irritated they were. Apart for his hands, Augnus now experienced numbness in several spots on his figure. He couldn't move his mouth to spit out some blood without his jaw stinging at which he would cringe. Getting past all that, panting in the aftermath while in an attempt to control his hurting as well as hold onto his remaining dignity, the shaman straightened up to face his jeering tormentor.

Sneering at the look of defiance he was being given from his hostage, Markten stated to Augnus, "There, nice and awake. No need to thank us. Now you'll be fit and ready to give our boss a decent brawl." There were snickers from the nearby men at this.

The filthy archer bandit got up close to his victim, who tried to remain undisturbed by the bad breath breathed into his face while he was told, "Let me tell ya, friend, Batta is pretty curious to see just how much ya can take since ya finished off his pal, Bale. We all are, as a matter of fact." Augnus didn't reply to this. It took everything he had to stay cool, collected, and not unleash his ferocity bottled up inside. If Markten was smart - which he wasn't - then he'd shut up. However, sadly, the bandit's silence wasn't a luxury given to the shaman. Markten just went on flapping his damned mouth with useless teases that not only made him stupid but tested destruction incarnate who was trying not to blow up everything!

Man, if he really did go wild, Augnus would change the tunes of the bandits around in a blink. They wouldn't be smiling, that was for sure. More like adopting expressions of terror! Yet, no, the shaman had to resist such devastation... no matter how tempting. So, as the bowman lectured him about what was about to happen to him, the shaman remained stiffly quiet. Even though he dearly wished to shut the preaching brigand up for good.

"Well, we all were curious as to how much punishment ya could take, magic man. Turns out, you're a surprise. Most heroes we beat up like now just faint. Ya, though... you're pretty sturdy for a mage." Markten admitted with a grin, "Batta the Beast might've just found the challenge he's been looking for. See, he needs to fight someone every so often and guess who is going to be his next fighter." It didn't need to be said but the answer was revealed anyway, "You're the next fortunate competitor to face the boss, friend! Lucky, lucky, lucky ya! Ha ha! Oh no, wait... Other way around. Unlucky ya! Ha ha!" Markten's obnoxious laughter was repeated by his fellows.

Augnus knew now the reason for why he'd just been visited, beaten, and now untied. He was going to go see Batta the Beast, eh? He was going to fight him? In this state? Lovely. Figures that a chieftain of a band of marauders would weaken his opponent before facing him one on one. Much like how the band enslaved the defenseless rather than nobles, this was a coward's play. Well, in the least, Augnus could feel good that Batta took no chances with him. He saw the shaman as a threat.

"Enough standing around, boys!" Markten suddenly roared with relish, an evil sparkle in his eyes, "The boss ain't a patient man, remember? We've had our fun, we've done what we were told to do, now let's finish this up! Get that cockroach moving and let's see just how superior he is against the king beast in these parts!"

There were roars of agreement and, abruptly, Augnus found himself being half dragged-half carried along by his supporters with the others following closely. Markten eagerly turned away from the procession to lead them through an exit, through a flap. It suddenly occurred to the weakened shaman that he wasn't really outside but inside a lone tent. He was truly a threat to this camp it seemed. The necessary precautions had been made to keep him from using any means, magic or other, to get away. He was isolated from everyone, everything. He had been blinded, roped up, now even bruised and that wasn't all. He was, most probably, going to have a hell of a time with Batta the Beast now. Heh, guess it was time to see if this outlaw leader lived up to the name, eh? This was certainly turning out to be quite the night.

The next thing he knew, Augnus was walking along through a momentarily set up settlement much like the nomadic one he had been investigating earlier in the day. It wouldn't be up for long, mind. It would be taken down by the brigands in the morning and be carted along southwards towards Bern with the slaves during the day... that was if Augnus didn't have anything to say about it before dawn arrived. An opportunity for freedom had to show itself by then.

The time had to be somewhere close to midnight. When the shaman looked upwards at where the heavens remained to confirm this, he found the moon nearly resting in the middle of the black blanket that was the night sky. Yes, midnight was close. Torches on numerous poles along the path provided the required light needed to traverse along towards where the middle of the site was and, more than likely, where the Beast gang's leader resided in wait for his hurting guest.

Hold a moment. Who was Batta the Beast? Now that he thought over it, who was Augnus truly getting involved with here? The Beast crew's leader couldn't be a magic user like himself, could he?

Nah, users of magic usually considered themselves a bit higher rank than a "beast". They weren't mindless warriors but brilliant scholars and they went for sacred titles like the "Emerald Wyvern", "Leopard Heart", "Crimson Widow", or such. They were creative. Only those who preferred muscle over wit really went for the basic title of "Batta the Beast", "The Drake", "Iron Skin", or some other name that easily represented strength or intimidation.

So... what could Augnus expect in his opponent if he was a user of melee weapons rather than the arcane? Did Batta use a sword? Did he prefer the spear, the bow, or perhaps the axe? What about knives? He could very well be an assassin like Bale had been. Feeling his mind racing out of control, the shaman shook away his dread and tried to remain focused. What fight was he getting into? Could it be for his life or just for play? Just by the tone Markten had used with him, Augnus kind of got the sense the fight coming was going to be for the sport of fighting. That wasn't for certain but, if death seemed likely, Augnus would have no choice... He would have to go berserk. He couldn't die, no matter the circumstances. Not yet.

"Getting nervous, hero?"

Markten, from nowhere, was beside Augnus with a wicked grin still on his face at the crack of a joke. He must have spotted his hostage being very mindful and taken the opportunity to humiliate him some more just before the fight. Perhaps the shaman looked unsure of himself due to his confusion on who he would be facing but, to his tormentor, he could've very well been fearing for his life.

Augnus snarled when the bandit archer smacked his delicate shoulder in a good humored manner and said, "Not to worry, the boss values coin too much to do ya in. He'll beat ya within an inch of your life in front of _everyone _but not over it." In front of everyone? There was something in that reference that sounded like not only bandits were going to be attending this.

The shaman's confusion showed at this riddle and Markten made clear what he meant, "Oh, yes, you wanted to speak with the boss about the slaves, right? Well, he figured ya could do that while ya two fight. You'll get to see the slaves and they'll get to see ya... while you're getting your ass handed to ya by the boss, mind! Ha ha ha!" The slaves were going to be there? A fortunate turn! Maybe this was the chance Augnus was looking for to get away with the imprisoned. However, first, since his tormentor was so close as well as open for it...

"Argh!" A resounding, painful yell as well as "crack" rang out when, with pleasure, Augnus head butted Markten right straight in the face for everything! It was a clean hit, a firm one, that made the archer thrash about wildly afterwards while cursing as his fellows observed in slight astonishment! Finally, regaining control of himself, the bowman with a broken nose delivered a savage blow of his own to his attacker! This attack Augnus received was one he could take with good graces.

Even as he was hit, the shaman remained straight and glared at Markten coldly as the convict recovered himself. Seeing the glare, the archer sneered evilly. He seized the hostage by the collar and, with the help of the other two guards, dragged Augnus along in renewed speed.

"Think you're so tough, do you?" The archer snapped while still speedily walking along, "Full of spirit, eh? The boss will like that! Let's see how tough ya are, hero, against him!" With that, everyone began running. The shaman, with his feet plus hands handicapped, had trouble keeping up, naturally. He would fall every so often. His holders didn't care. They would rip him right back up and, at the same pace, move along. Finally, the party reached the middle of the campsite and, ahead, Augnus witnessed a most astonishing sight that made his breath catch in his throat.

In the camp's center, tied up as much as the shaman himself, were dozens of Sacae's nomadic folk. Frightened and gagged children, adults, elders, they were all seated down with rogue guards watching them. The slaves made an encirclement, a ring, around a certain area of space. In the middle of that circled out area purposefully stood one figure.

Even though the lone man had his back turned to the newly arrived bandits with their prisoner, Augnus knew right off who the stranger alone amid the crowd of slaves was. Who else could it be but Batta the Beast, the king of beasts?

Markten firmly had the two guards with him let go of the shaman and, alone, the archer marched his charge towards the chieftain. As he went, Augnus could not ignore the gazes he received from everyone he had and still planned to save. He noticed every nomad, every child of Hanon, looked despairingly at him as he passed through their ranks. Did they know he had come to try to help them? If so, their expressions of sorrow were explained. They thought hope for freedom was lost to them. However, they couldn't have been more wrong.

Augnus, even though weak, didn't intend to just be sold to a plantation in Bern or lay down to die. Nah, as soon as the chance presented itself to him... the shaman was gone, as were the people of Sacae here. He would ruins these bandits' intentions. All he asked of the nomads was their patience as well as faith meantime. For now, ugh, Batta had to be dealt with.

As for the chieftain himself, he definitely looked intimidating enough and that, mind, was just from looking at him from behind. His entire upper half, unlike his lower, was uncovered, open to experience the cool air that breezed by. His figure was ripped, muscular, conditioned, plus covered in faded scars inherited from battles of unknown origin. His feet were bare against the earth and his legs were merely covered by baggy pants.

The chieftain wasn't going to get involved in a life threatening battle in a few minutes, remember. He was going to beat up a man, a victim, already roughed up and, thus, he didn't have need of his armor. He could do the job of showing his superiority to not only the bruised shaman being brought to him but to his newly acquired slaves with his bare hands alone. He didn't need a weapon to invoke fear into those that looked to escape him. There was no escape from Batta the Beast once captured and, once done beating raw he who was responsible for Bale's demise, everyone would know it. They wouldn't ever question it. That was why the slaves were present, that was why the fight was taking place... it would all result in a lesson.

Once you were the property of Batta the Beast, you were nothing else nor wouldn't ever be anything else. You could not flee him let alone beat him. If you tried anything such, well... you would come to wish you hadn't, heh.

Amid the slaves, just at the edge of the circle, Markten stopped with Augnus. With everyone watching them, the archer breathed to the shaman one last thing with a slightly plugged nose, "Welcome to the king beast's domain, hero. I did warn you before but, here, you'll learn just what happens to those that wish to _see _the boss. Have fun... or don't. I do not care." Then, with a sharp shove Markten slammed Augnus forward towards the immobile Batta the Beast.

Unable to keep up with his own momentum due to still being tied up, the shaman fell forward into the ground. Now, not only did the hostage suffer from punches but from scrapes too. Pain racked his body as he heard Markten announce boldly, "The hero is here to discuss business with ya, boss! He's all yours!" At this announcement, Augnus tried his best while face down to look at what the bandit chieftain would do. With his limbs wrapped in rope, he could only watch as Batta slowly turned around towards him in an ominous manner. Ha, this was going to go well, wasn't it?

"Samandra..." The shaman thought to himself, trying to remain brave in the face of the unknown with everyone watching him, "I could do with that help right now. If you don't mind, anyway."

With what was coming, Augnus seriously needed aid. He didn't want to nor couldn't turn berserk with everyone around him. He prayed to St. Elimine, to the dragons, to anyone that would listen to his plea, that it wouldn't come to such dire circumstances. If it did and he had to go wild with his powers to survive... he wouldn't forgive himself. Come on, let luck be on his side for a change!

"Seriously, Samandra, don't stay mad. I really need some help. Give me a sign or-" A boot slammed down right in front of Augnus's face and, in response, he silenced at once. He glanced upwards to find himself being watched.

"Saying your prayers, are you, hero?" Batta the Beast, a brawny man in his early thirties with steely gray eyes and short, hay yellow hair held back by a green bandana, growled smugly to his uncertain victim. Now facing his prey, the chieftain knelt down closer to Augnus to add for good measure, "Not to worry, boy. I don't intend to take your life in front of this audience... just come close to it." At that, the king of beasts cracked into an unnerving grin as well as cracked his thick knuckles purposefully.

_- End of "The Beast of Beasts"_


End file.
